


Letho's Contract

by galactic_roses



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Contracts, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Higher Vampires, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Manipulation, Monsters, Nightmares, Prostitution, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactic_roses/pseuds/galactic_roses
Summary: Work suited to a witcher is usually hard to come by in 1265, and Letho is having trouble making enough gold to live on. When he comes across what seems like a trivial contract, he doesn't realize that the contract will lead him on a chase across the Northern Kingdoms. With a new companion, Letho sets out on what might end up being the most difficult contract he's taken on since he was a young witcher, tracking a monster that moves faster than the wind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, yet another disaster of mine is beginning! Letho doesn't get enough love from the fandom, so this fic is dedicated to him, and also features a new and wonderfully devious OC of mine. Enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to the amazing @letholetgod, my glorious beta-reader <3

Chapter 1.

A huge man stood in front of the village message board, intent upon a faded notice pinned to the wood. He was dressed strangely, in leather and cloth armor, but his arms were bare, showing the heavy muscles that flexed and rippled under his skin. Odd, circular scars marred the skin of both biceps, shiny pink against the veined pallor. Sunlight reflected off his shaved crown and sparkled on the gold ring in his ear. The two swords strapped to his back had already drawn many anxious looks from the passersby, and the few who also noticed the two shorter blades sheathed over his ribs suddenly remembered very important things they needed to do and hurried away. Despite his apparent focus on the board, his shadowed eyes flickered side to side as villagers skittered around him, whispering nervously.

After another few moments of deep consideration, the man reached up and tore the paper from its pin, folded it carefully, then tucked it into a pocket. When he turned around, the few people who had gathered to stare at him fled. Venomous, yellow-green eyes followed them until they disappeared. The man sneered, then began to walk down the village road in long, purposeful strides, headed toward a small house on the outskirts of town.

Letho of Gulet was bored. It had been weeks since his last interesting contract. He was also running out of gold, and both of those facts were incentive enough to take the notice about a missing family member and wander in the direction of the mentioned house. His booted feet made little noise in the dust of the road. 

As he walked, he thought briefly about his comrades from the School of the Viper, wondering where they had gone to after they had all parted ways several years previously. He hadn’t heard of or seen either Serrit or Auckes since then, and for a brief moment he felt a twinge of loss. 

The rickety door was in front of him before he realized it. He knocked.

“Uessa, ya wench,” a cracked voice called from inside the tiny house. “I were expecting ye ages ago! Ye better not have been tumblin’ with that tavern boy again!” 

Letho raised his eyebrows a fraction and waited as shaky footsteps drew closer then the speaker hauled the door ajar.

“I’ll tan yer hide fer thi—” The wizened old woman stopped dead as she saw that the person standing on her doorstep was not the expected Uessa at all, but someone entirely different. She peered up into Letho’s face, the many wrinkles in her leathery skin deepening in confusion. Finally, she huffed.

“And who might ye be?” she asked. 

“Here about the notice,” Letho grunted in reply, amused in spite of himself.

“Ah, yes, th’ notice!” 

Having seemingly forgotten about ‘Uessa,’ the woman began to tell Letho all about her lost son. She claimed that he had never come home from his last trip to a nearby city. Letho listened as the woman rattled on for a while, giving him a surprisingly detailed description of her son, down to unnecessary details that he really didn’t need to know.

“Copper ring on his left hand, an’ he’s missin’ th’ little toe off his left foot,” she finally said, apparently amused by the statement. “I’ll pay ya what I have if ye can find him, an’ get whatever got him.” 

She named a price. Letho was a bit surprised that she would be willing to pay what must have been most of her life’s savings, but he kept his face blank and accepted the contract. Folks knew the consequences of not paying a witcher what had been promised, so he would be surprised if the woman was lying, but the pay seemed to be too good to be true. 

Letho was pleased to be leaving the town, but years of being a witcher kept it from showing on his face. He had always preferred roughing it in the woods to being in places with people, and he patted his horse’s neck as they left the village behind. The woman’s son, a tall, thin man with a shock of black hair, had been headed for Oxenfurt. The city was roughly one-hundred and fifty miles from Denesle, and he could cover about thirty miles in a day if he rode steadily, he calculated. That would give him five days of relative peace and quiet.

_‘Peace and quiet,’_ Letho thought with grim satisfaction, swinging his silver blade at an approaching ghoul. He’d come upon a nest of the monsters along the road, catching its scent from his seat in the saddle. His horse stood patiently in the road and waited for him to return as he dealt with the nest. 

The monster screeched and jumped away, but Letho was much quicker, diving forward and cleaving the thing in half. He let the momentum swing him around to catch another creature in the act of leaping on him, and slashed it crosswise. Rancid blood splattered his front as the ghoul dropped. It seemed to be the nest’s last defense. Nothing else stirred among the fetid corpses. Letho picked through the mess until he could drop a bomb into the nest’s entrance, then backed up. The ensuing explosion sent chunks of rotten meat spinning skyward, along with dirt, rocks, and pieces of old bones. Letho watched the debris rain down, feeling tiny pieces of it land on his shaved scalp and the back of his neck, and waited until the dirt had settled.

A grating, metallic scream dug into Letho’s eardrums like a thousand tiny knives, nearly forcing him back a step. He raised his sword into the guard position and watched as one last monster crept toward him through the dust. This one was smarter than the others, and didn’t immediately leap for him, choosing instead to circle, its hate-filled eyes trained on the witcher. Thin spines rose along its back. 

Letho wasn’t fazed in the slightest. He had faced plenty of alghouls in his monster hunting career, and knew exactly what to do. Taking a quick breath, Letho drew on the magic around and inside him and let it flow into his hand, Axii blazing from his fingers. The alghoul paused, confused, the spikes along its back lowering slightly, and Letho struck.

The arc of blood was black against the sky as the monster’s head flew through the air. Letho jumped out of the way to avoid getting drenched again. Once all was still again, he bent to gather the usable parts from the beasts’ corpses, stowing the various ingredients in his saddlebags. His horse was accustomed to this process and stood placidly, flicking its tail. Wiping a streak of blood from his face, Letho swung himself into the saddle and urged his mount forward. The slight breeze cleared the stink of death from his nostrils. He inhaled, and in doing so caught a faint scent that he didn’t recognize. It was spicy, and almost floral. The smell was gone when he sniffed again, questing for its source, and it didn’t reappear. Letho shrugged inwardly and focused on the road.

Preparing to rest for the night on his third day of travel, Letho caught the same strange scent on the wind. He straightened in his kneeling position and inhaled deeply, suspicion worming its way into his mind. The road was nearby, but the aroma wasn’t coming from that direction, it was coming from the woods at the edge of the field where he had stopped. The smell reminded him of cologne, of spices and flowers, and it struck him as a scent that belonged in a wealthy city district, not in a forest.

He settled into his position and closed his eyes, running over his options. The horse needed to rest, otherwise he would’ve kept on moving. Whatever was out there wasn’t coming perceptibly closer, so it wasn’t an immediate threat. Relaxing just a little, he slipped into a deep meditation, opening his senses to the night air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

Letho’s dislike of cities deepened as he stabled his mount behind The Alchemy and walked around the building to survey his surroundings. The street was bustling with an eclectic mix of merchants, students, and other city dwellers going about their daily business. Thrusting that distaste away, he strolled inside the inn. The locals inside turned to stare at him, as people often did. Ignoring them, he walked up to the bartender.

The man was decidedly shorter and thinner than Letho, and he began to fidget nervously as the witcher approached. Letho felt a surge of grim satisfaction. Sometimes his frightening appearance did assist him in searching for information.

“Looking for a man going by the name Ranhak,” Letho said without preamble. “Was told he came through this way. Don’t suppose he stopped here.”

“Aye, he did,” the bartender said, scratching his bearded chin and trying not to look nervous. “He came in for a drink near about fifteen days ago. Said he was stayin’ in a house nearby for another day or two before headin’ back to his ma.”

The man gave Letho directions to the house Ranhak had talked about and Letho left the inn, sliding the man a few coins to make sure his horse stayed comfortably in the stable. The moment he stepped outside, a familiar aroma tickled his nose. He was fairly sure now. Craning his neck to look around, he frowned. It seemed as if someone was following him, but he couldn’t be entirely positive until he left the city again. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his eye. Brows furrowed, he moved off through the streets, focusing on the bartender’s directions but still constantly aware of his surroundings.

The door to the house looked solid enough. Letho examined it carefully before giving it an experimental push. It was open. The air that escaped as the door opened carried with it a faint aroma that Letho knew all too well. He entered the house, shutting the door carefully behind him.

The room inside was a disaster of loose papers and belongings. It looked as if someone had flung their things around in a panic. Letho waded through the mess, his senses alert. The scent was coming from the floor upstairs, so he moved toward the staircase. 

The upstairs room looked exactly like the room below, empty of life and scattered with objects and papers. The only difference Letho found was the source of the smell he recognized. Copious amounts of blood had been spattered across the floor, and though it was old and dried, the metallic scent was still detectable in the air. He crouched to get a better look at the splotches nearest to him.

_‘Human,’_ he thought, sniffing again. _‘From an artery, most likely. No wonder it’s everywhere. I can only guess what happened here, since I won’t know for sure ‘til I find the body.’_

He cast his eyes around, looking for some trace of a clue to follow. Finding nothing but blood splatters, he went back downstairs and walked in a circle, thinking. Old trails were hard to follow. This one may have disappeared entirely, but there was still a faint chance…

His foot landed on a part of the floor that gave slightly. He stopped and bent to clear the debris away. The give in the floor was a trap door.

_‘Shoulda known,’_ he thought, inspecting the wood. The board around the metal handle had been scratched by something with very long, sharp nails. Whatever had done the killing upstairs was intelligent enough to hide the body in the basement, where it would be less obvious.

The ladder creaked under Letho’s weight, but it didn’t break. When his booted feet hit the stone floor, he felt a gust of cold, foul-smelling air. After he adjusted his eyes to the darkness, the reason for the breeze became apparent. A large hole had been dug through the side of the cellar and into the sewer beyond, and the basement room was empty. Letho heaved a sigh. The sewers under any city were not a comfortable place to be by any means, but for some reason, witcher contracts always managed to end up there.

Letho stepped through the hole in the wall, senses on the alert. Drowners and water hags loved sewers, so he was bound to find some nearby. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small vial of Cat and downed its contents. Although he was accustomed to the horrible taste of the potion, he never liked the feeling of his pupils dilating and stretching beyond their normal capacity. He blinked several times, then took a minute to inspect the ground. Small crumbs of rock from the wall had been tracked off to his left, so he turned that way and followed the trail. His stomach began to roll as he walked. Cat potion tended to alter depth perception just a bit, turning the world to shades of gray as it widened the irises, and it also sometimes brought on nausea. Swallowing, Letho focused on the path in front of him.

The smell of rot grew stronger as he moved along, stalking silently among the filth and sludge on the ground. He could smell every bit of rancid decay, his sensitive nose picking out individual scents among the bouquet, and the effect on his stomach was less than pleasant. He pushed down a gag and continued on. At a crossroads in the tunnels, he stopped, ignoring the nausea and sniffing carefully. For a moment, he thought he could detect the faintest hint of spices and flowers amongst the stench, then it was gone. He shook his head and chose the tunnel that smelled distinctly of rotting flesh, unsheathing his silver sword. Scurrying and other, more ominous sounds met his ears, and he had no doubt as to what he would find when he reached the end of the tunnel.

The drowners Letho discovered were not happy to have their feast disturbed. They let out a volley of shrieks and screeches and attacked him, claws and teeth bared. One of the useful effects of Cat potion was that it created a red aura around hostile monsters. Taking note of this aura through his altered depth perception, Letho dodged easily out of their way, adrenaline beginning to spike in his blood as the Cat-induced nausea faded. He grinned and attacked. By strategically feinting and dodging, he led the creatures farther back into the confined space of the passage, where the monsters could not use their limited battle tactics to surround him. Using his own agility, he picked off the monsters one by one. When they were all dead, he returned to the place where they had been feasting.

Most of the bodies had been picked clean, the bones pale in the darkness. Only two were fresh enough that they hadn’t been completely eaten by the necrophages. One of them could have been female, though the corpse was a few days newer than the other and so bloated that it was hard to determine the gender. The other was male, but the stature was too short and stout to be the man Letho was looking for. He crouched to get a better look at the bodies. Though parts of them had been recently ripped open, displaying rotten, maggot-ridden insides, Letho could tell that some of the ripping had happened at the time of death. The soft, blackened edges of the wounds around the throats of both corpses told him that those marks were old. 

_‘Long, sharp claws,’_ Letho thought, using a clean bone to poke the rotten flesh experimentally. _‘And sharp teeth. Some sort of higher vampire, I expect. Explains the arterial blood on the floor.’ _

After a thorough search and inspection of the corpses, Letho stood and stepped back. He paced back and forth, thinking hard. Judging by the state of decay, these bodies had been dumped in the sewer four to ten days earlier. The fatal wounds on both corpses were identical, indicating that the same monster had killed both. Assuming that the other remains nearby were also victims of the monster, it had been active in this town for a while. Letho counted nine skulls among the clean-picked bones.

_‘Eleven dead,_’ Letho thought, rubbing his stubbly chin._ ‘Men and women, mostly younger adults. Shows the monster has a preference. With that many dead, someone might have complained to the guard.’ _

Letho stopped pacing and looked at the corpses. If left this way they would attract more necrophages and less pleasant things. His fingers flashed with the sign for Igni, and flames spouted around the bloated bodies, consuming them in a gout of white-hot flames. He watched the fire burn for a minute, then turned and headed back the way he had come.

When he stepped out of the house onto the street, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light, the beggar across the road flinched and nearly fell off his stool. 

Letho saw the movement and walked over to crouch down in front of him, his face level with the man’s frightened visage, and waited. 

“I thought ye were th’ beast that done it,” the beggar gasped, finally finding his voice. “Ye scared th’ livin’ shite outta me!” 

“‘The beast that done it’?” Letho repeated.

The man nodded, his eyes wide.

“Th’ whole neighborhood heard th’ screamin’. Ain’t no one been brave enough t’ take a look inside since.” 

Letho scratched his chin.

“You sit here every day?” he asked the man.

“Fer years,” the beggar replied. “Seen everythin’ that happened here fer just as long. Watched ye go in, jus’ didna think ye’d come back out.”

“How’s your memory?” Letho grunted, leaning forward slightly. “Who’s been in and out of that house in the past month?”

The beggar pursed his lips and thought for a minute before he answered.

“Th’ owner been in an’ out near every day ‘til ‘bout five days ago,” he said. “Haven’t seen her since then. Seen a few others, probably rentin’ the upstairs room.”

“Can you describe the ‘others’?” 

“Saw two men an’ a woman,” the beggar said with confidence. “Short, round bloke, head shaved like your’n. ‘Nother man, taller an’ thin like a rail, with black hair. Then th’ woman…”

The beggar stopped and swallowed. His eyes widened even further.

“She were like an angel,” he whispered, looking into Letho’s face with an awed expression. “Hair like pure gold, all in curls ‘round her face. Pale skin, red mouth, an’ the prettiest blue eyes ye’ve ever seen.”

“Was she the last person you saw come out of there?” Letho asked.

“No,” the beggar said. “‘Twas the tall, thin man. Left in a hurry some days ago an’ hasn’t been back.” 

Letho stood, causing the beggar to nearly fall from his seat again. 

“Thanks for the info,” Letho grunted, and flipped him a coin. The man had given him plenty to think about.

When Letho asked a group of city guards about his quarry, all of them shook their heads. He walked around the city, asking beggars and shopkeepers about the tall, thin man with black hair. Plenty of them had seen the man, but none knew much about where he had gone. He was beginning to wonder if the trail had gone cold when he walked past the western gate. One of the guards there stopped him.

“You’ve been looking for a tall, thin man?” the guard asked. Letho nodded. 

“We seen him near five nights past,” the other guard said. “Rode out ‘round midnight with a hooded companion.” 

“When we asked, the man said something about visiting Gors Velen, coastal city some three hundred miles southwest of here,” the first guard cut in. 

Letho nodded.

“Thanks,” he grunted, and headed back toward The Alchemy. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any confusion, I only just noticed that I posted the same chapter twice. Here's the real chapter 3, enjoy!

**Chapter 3.**

The sun was beginning to set as Letho rode out of Oxenfurt. He’d restocked his supply of food, but he didn’t want to have to pay money for a room at the inn if he didn’t have to. Finding a spot to meditate would be much simpler. And cheaper. 

He stopped a short distance west of a stonecutter’s settlement, dismounting from his horse with a soft thud. Camping directly on the road was never a good idea, so he headed to the right, toward a clump of trees. Once his horse was settled and cared for, he collected some firewood from beneath the cluster of trees. As he began to set up the pieces of wood he’d found, he caught a smell on the breeze that he didn’t like. Standing once more, he drew his silver sword and followed his nose.

The corpse was lying in a hollow some distance from his camp. It was maybe four or five days old, already stinking and bloated. The build suggested that the person had been male, but once again it seemed too short to be the man Letho was looking for. Like the two in the Oxenfurt sewer, his throat had been savagely ripped out by something with sharp teeth and claws. Something twisted around the corpse’s shirt button caught Letho’s attention and he stooped to pick it up. 

_‘So, the woman is a bruxa,’_ Letho thought, looking at the curled blonde hair. It shimmered slightly in the light from the rising moon. He rolled it up and tucked it carefully into a pocket. _‘And she’s taken a fancy to Ranhak. This is gonna make things much more complicated.’_

After incinerating the corpse with Igni, Letho walked back to his camp, planning the best course of action. This bruxa was obviously intelligent and crafty. She would not stick in one place for too long, especially not if she caught wind that Letho was on her trail. After spending so long in Oxenfurt, she would probably keep moving until she found another place that suited her needs. He was deep in thought as he walked, but a sudden gust of wind stopped him dead in his tracks. The air had brought a spicy, almost floral scent with it, one that he recognized easily.

Someone was standing next to his horse, stroking the animal’s nose familiarly. Adjusting his eyes, Letho saw that the man appeared to be human. He was dressed in a long, dark coat, a simple white shirt, and dark trousers. A sparkle of silver winked in his earlobes as he turned to meet Letho’s gaze. Dark eyes twinkled in a pale, angular, sophisticated face framed by raven-black hair. The rest of the hair was pulled back into a long braid that draped over the man’s shoulder.

“Beautiful animal,” the man said in a light, melodic voice, his teeth flashing in a friendly smile. Instead of answering, Letho reached up and slid his silver sword from its sheath. The man looked human enough, but something didn’t seem right. 

“Oh, please,” the man said. “I’m not here to fight you. It would be a waste of time and energy for us both.”

Letho didn’t lower his blade, and didn’t reply. He just waited.

“Relax.” As the man spoke, his body turned into a cloud of reddish mist. The red cloud shot toward Letho with inhuman speed, reforming into the man in the blink of an eye. He grinned cheekily and vanished as Letho swung, reappearing again well out of sword’s reach. 

“If I really wanted to cause you harm, I would’ve attacked while you were busy with that body. I’m merely here to chat.”

Annoyed, Letho lowered his blade and frowned at the man, who he now knew was a true higher vampire. 

“Why have you been following me?” Letho asked, his voice a low rumble. 

“Curiosity,” the vampire answered, dropping down into a tailor’s seat with ease. “I find witchers to be simply fascinating.”

Letho didn’t respond to this, so the vampire continued to talk. 

“I’ve been quite bored lately,” he said, still watching Letho. “And you seem like you’re on the trail of something interesting. I’d like to accompany you and see where it leads, if I may.”

Letho scowled, his mind working quickly. He wasn’t being attacked, and no one was paying him to kill the man, so there really was no reason to fight. A fight would indeed be a waste of time and energy. Witchers didn’t often take on higher vampires, and on the rare times they did, it usually didn’t go well. He guessed he could hold his own against one for a short time, but higher vampires were beings of incredible speed and strength, often easily surpassing even the skills of a witcher. If this odd being had decided to peacefully pester him, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“And if I say no?” Letho grunted, sheathing his sword.

“You’re perfectly welcome to say no,” the vampire replied, “but that doesn’t mean that you’ll be able to completely get rid of me. You see, I have slightly personal reasons for being interested in you at the moment, and I intend to be quite persistent in the matter.” 

Letho watched him for another moment, then walked over and started the fire with a quick burst of Igni. He sat on the other side of the flames, watching the dancing light for a moment before looking up again.

“So, you gonna tell me your name or what?” he said with a grunt. The vampire sprang to his feet with an exclamation.

“I forgot! Please forgive me!” 

He swept his coat aside and gave an extremely deep, flourishing, and elegant bow, somehow managing to make the gesture almost mocking.

“My name is Sir Coreil Daemum Tiur Arthe-Veln, and yes, I did take the time to become properly knighted. It was a very entertaining process. However, you may call me Coreil.”

“Right,” Letho said, reaching for his saddlebags. “Didn’t bring enough food for two people. I wasn’t expecting company.” 

Coreil chuckled and pushed himself to his feet. 

“Oh, no need to worry,” he said, his body turning to red mist again. The cloud trickled away and was gone. Letho stoked the fire absently, his mind still whirring. A minute later, Coreil appeared again, a dead rabbit in each fist. Letho could smell their blood, but he couldn’t see any on Coreil’s clothes. Grinning smugly, Coreil dropped down and tossed Letho one of the rabbits.

“Just because I’m unexpected doesn’t mean I can’t be of use,” he said. Letho eyed him suspiciously.

“You gonna want that cooked?” he asked, tilting his head toward the rabbit. Coreil shrugged, flashing his pointed teeth.

“I don’t care either way, in fact, I prefer meat raw. If it doesn’t upset you…” 

Letho raised an eyebrow at the vampire, then began to skin his own rabbit. He already had the fire, he might as well cook his share of the catch. It only took him a few seconds, but in those seconds Coreil had already torn the fur off his dinner and was digging in. Although he’d eaten his fair share of rough meals, Letho was almost fascinated by the animalistic way Coreil ripped pieces of meat away from the bones. In a shorter time than it took for Letho’s rabbit to cook, Coreil had cleaned his own completely and was picking his teeth with a bone shard.

After Letho had finished eating, he tossed the remains onto the fire and leaned comfortably against his saddlebags, staring into the flames.

“So, where to now?” Coreil asked, dark eyes intent on Letho’s face. 

“Not goin’ anywhere ‘til morning,” Letho grunted, feeling pleasantly full and slightly less grumpy. “Headed toward Gors Velen tomorrow, about a five day ride. You got a horse?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Coreil replied.

Wishing that he was alone again, Letho sat up and got onto his knees to meditate.

“Feel free to sleep,” Coreil said, guessing his intentions. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No need.”

Letho closed his eyes and sank into a light meditation. The breeze rustled the leaves of the trees nearby. A small animal let out a squeak and scurried through the tall grass. Coreil stood and moved about, seemingly restless, his spicy scent drifted over the witcher in waves. He wandered away during the night, and was gone when Letho pulled himself out of his meditative state.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting pale golden light over the hills. Letho stood and stretched, then looked around for Coreil. The man was nowhere to be seen. Wondering if he’d hallucinated the entire interaction, Letho walked over to a clump of bushes and undid his armor, intending to relieve himself. He was in the middle of the process when he heard the crunch of footsteps nearby. Irritably, he finished his business and turned, buttoning his trousers.

“Thought I’d rustle up some breakfast,” Coreil said cheerfully, holding up several large fish. The nearest water was quite a distance away, but he didn’t seem at all tired from the journey. 

“Thanks,” Letho said grudgingly. He accepted the offering and walked over to his horse, lifting his saddlebags with his free hand. After a moment of juggling the fish and the bags’ straps, his horse was ready for the day.

Letho didn’t bother with cooking the fish. He sliced them open and cleaned them well, then ate the meat raw. When he was finished, he saw that Coreil was already done eating and was ready to go.

“You gonna walk, then?” the witcher asked, swinging himself up into his saddle. 

“Most definitely not,” Coreil said, then lifted his head and let out a loud, trilling whistle. The sound of approaching hoofbeats met Letho’s ears, and he stared unbelievingly in the direction of the noise. 

A beautiful white horse appeared in the distance, coming toward them at a trot. The mare stopped when she reached Coreil, whickering and pushing her nose into his chest. He stroked the white mane and whispered to her, then mounted with effortless grace, as if riding bareback was the most natural thing in the world. Letho watched the whole procedure with interest. He’d never seen someone summon a horse from so far away, but he guessed it had something to do with the powers of a higher vampire. 

“Let’s continue on, then,” Coreil said with a self-satisfied smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait between chapters, life happens, ya know?

**Chapter 4.**

“So, this is more or less a common occurrence?” Coreil called, casually extending his claws and ripping two bandits to pieces while Letho finished off a few more.

“More or less,” Letho gritted, swinging his steel sword in a broad arc that neatly decapitated a nearby bandit. He took a quick sidestep to avoid the spiked club aimed at his back, and swung around to kill the man wielding it. Another bandit ran at him, rusty sword raised, but he fell before Letho could reach him. Coreil stood where the man had dropped, lips pursed.

“This reminds me of my childhood,” Coreil said casually, nudging the downed bandit’s head with his toe. “It’s lost some of its childish glamour, though.”

Letho ignored him, instead bending low to pull a few coins from a bandit’s pockets. 

“Ah, yes,” Coreil hummed, watching Letho’s search for more gold, “This charming part of the witcher lifestyle.” 

“They won’t be needing it,” Letho replied. He heard Coreil chuckle.

One man in the pile of bodies stirred, moaning quietly. In the blink of an eye, Coreil was standing beside the mound, looking curious. He reached down and lifted the mover into the air as easily as if the man was made of air, not flesh.

“Do you mind if I…?” he asked, turning to look at Letho, a red sparkle in his dark eyes.

Fairly sure of what he was asking, Letho shrugged and returned to his task, ignoring the shrill, gurgling scream that issued from behind him a moment later. When he was finished with his search, he stood and looked around. Coreil was already seated on his white mare, looking slightly dazed, and extremely pleased with himself. Somehow he’d managed to keep his clothes entirely free of blood. Letho rubbed a drop of the stuff off his cheek, not disturbed in the slightest by the vampire’s actions, and wiped his sword on his thigh. It was going to need a proper cleaning when they stopped for the night.

Riding with Coreil wasn’t Letho’s favorite way to travel, but as companions went he wasn’t half bad. Letho even grew used to him after a few days. The man did talk quite a bit, but when enemies attacked or when it was time to eat, he proved to be quite useful. As a higher vampire, he was adept at fighting both monsters and humans, though he preferred to hold back and let Letho do most of the sword work. The witcher didn’t mind this. Fighting hard kept him in practice and helped him clear his mind.

Used to spending time hunting for his own food, Letho appreciated the game that Coreil caught and the extra time they then had to rest and ride. Coreil seemed to enjoy hunting, and would disappear for hours during the night and return each time with breakfast for the next morning. Letho was happy to take advantage of the free food. He knew that he would be back to hunting his own game soon.

Dawn broke on the tenth day of travel, flooding the sky with red and gold light. Letho woke to the sharp tang of the sea flooding his nose as the breeze blew around him. He’d slipped into a light doze during his meditation. Standing, he stretched languidly and looked to the west, where the light from the rising sun illuminated the distant blue-green expanse of the sea. He inhaled, enjoying the salty air. 

“Glorious morning, no?” Coreil said, appearing with a pair of ducks in one fist. Not expecting an answer, Coreil tossed the witcher a duck and sat to pluck the other. When Letho had cooked and eaten his own breakfast, the two took down their camp and set out toward the city, whose spires they could just barely make out in the distance.

A short distance from the city, Coreil reigned in his horse, stopping in the middle of the road. The mare pranced nervously as his grip tightened in her mane A strange, wide-eyed look had spread across his face, a look that made Letho vaguely uneasy. The expression was a mixture of anticipation and badly restrained anger.

“I’ll be parting ways with you here, my friend,” Coreil said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ll find you when you leave the city. You won’t want to be seen with me in there.”

Letho swung off his horse and shouldered his saddlebags. He didn’t like the sudden change in attitude that the man was displaying, but he supposed it wasn’t really his business, so he shrugged. 

“Whatever.”

He led his horse toward the city gate, only looking back once to see that Coreil had disappeared.

“State your name and—” a gate guard began, then he stopped, looked Letho over once, and rethought.

“Here on a contract,” Letho growled. “Looking for a tall, thin man with black hair, possibly traveling with a woman.” 

The guard shrugged.

“A few groups of travelers came in near five days ago,” he said, sounding bored. “He might’ve come in with them.”

Letho nodded and walked through the gate. The guard didn’t try to stop him again. As he moved further into the city, the dislike on his face must have become more and more apparent, since people began to practically leap out of his way. He didn’t mind that, because the streets were otherwise packed.

Gors Velen was a huge city. Letho was thoroughly disgusted with the amount of people he had to wade through to get anywhere. Using his height, bulk, and angry features, he pushed his way through the crowd, toward a sign that read, ‘The Unlaced Corset.’ He wasn’t sure exactly what type of establishment it was, but either way, it was a place to start.

The Unlaced Corset turned out to be a slightly seedy tavern, to no one’s surprise, and it only took a few minutes to wheedle information out of the bartender. The man hadn’t seen the witcher’s quarry, but he’d seen the woman once in the street. He’d also seen a notice on a board near the tavern that was requesting a witcher. Letho gruffly thanked the man and headed back out into the street toward the mentioned notice board. He could kill two birds with one stone by doing a quick contract or two and looking for his original quarry at the same time. 

He gave the notice board a quick sweep with his eyes, seeing a number of notices of varying sizes and quality, many about missing children, though none looked promising for a witcher. After a minute, he finally found the words he’d wanted to see.

_Witcher needed,_ the notice read. _Heard strange whispers, house surrounded by odd fog. Ask in Saffron and Pepper. Reward promised._

Letho stared at the notice. He didn’t like the sound of the strange fog at all, but he took the paper anyway and asked the nearest street vendor where the Saffron and Pepper was located. The woman pointed him toward the east, and he began to shove his way through the crowds, following her directions.

It took him at least an hour to find the tavern and go inside.

“Oh, thank the gods,” the man sitting near the door said when Letho approached. “A witcher at last.”

“Have you come to help us? We can pay.” The woman, sitting next to her husband, looked terrified as she spoke. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and had a faintly hysterical quality. Letho nodded, noting that a very faint, metallic scent rose from the woman’s skin.

“Need more details,” he grunted. The woman looked even more frightened and turned to hide her face in her husband’s shoulder, and the man answered instead.

“Started hearing whispering late at night,” he began. “Would whisper our names over and over. The fog started up around the same time as the whispers and we got so scared we just… left.” He gulped. “But we’d like our house back. Inns are too expensive for the likes of us.”

He explained to Letho how their house was located outside the city walls, in a nearby wood, and gave shaky directions. Something about the pair left a bad taste in Letho’s mouth, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. It could’ve been the faint scent rising from the woman’s skin, or the rusty-brown tint under her fingernails, or the frantic way the man been glancing over at her, but he wasn’t sure.

The fog certainly felt wrong. It sprung up rather suddenly as Letho moved into the woods, and his skin tingled in the places where it touched him. It had been almost mid day when he’d entered the forest, yet no sunlight could be seen through the thick mist. He had to kill several wraiths before he could even reach the small cabin, where he immediately saw what was wrong. Two large, circular designs had been drawn in red paint next to the cabin’s door. The design pushed his eyes away when he first looked at it, but he resisted its force and looked closer. It was definitely the mark of a curse.

Letho stepped back, thinking quickly. The couple hadn’t spoken of a monster of any sort, but it had to be there, most likely nearby. Monster or no, he needed to take a look inside the cabin. He’d only ever read about curses like this one, but they were nearly always placed for a reason. If he was going to figure out what was binding the monster to the place, he would need to look around. 

At first, Letho didn’t find anything particularly out of the ordinary in the small house, but something still didn’t feel right. His senses tingled. Only a few things seemed overtly strange to him. An odd stone basin sat in the corner of the room, its insides dyed dark from many uses. He walked over and gave it a thorough inspection. Though it had been stained brown, it had been cleaned so thoroughly with some sort of herbal mixture that Letho couldn’t tell what it had held. The smell of herbs confused his nose, but he could still detect a rust-like odor underneath. 

Slightly unsettled, he moved on to the next odd thing. It had caught his eye nearly as soon as he’d entered the room. A small effigy sat next to the bed. Letho didn’t recognize the figure, as he wasn’t interested in religion as a whole, but he would have to be an idiot not to recognize a symbol of Melitele when it was right under his nose. However, this particular symbol seemed to be an unusual perversion of the classic shape, and it bothered him even more than the stone basin. He’d heard of cults that worshipped a perversion of the goddess, but this was the first time he’d encountered anything of the sort in his travels. 

Letho wrinkled his nose in distaste and straightened. He walked around the room, considering his options. Stopping by the fireplace, he looked down and saw a doll sitting amongst the logs. It looked charred, but still intact. He bent over to pick it up but stopped at the last moment. An overpowering sense told him not to touch the burned toy. 

Straightening, he paced for a moment, then left the cabin and walked quietly around to the back. The monster was still nowhere to be seen. 

His boot collided with something small that rolled away from him with a quiet rattle. In the mist, he couldn't quite make out what it was, but as he leaned closer, he saw that it was a small femur. A femur that didn’t look like it had come from any animal Letho knew. 

He made it back to the city without seeing the wraith he knew had been hiding in the fog. It would appear as soon as the couple walked back into their cabin and then it would wait for them to come out. Letho wouldn’t be able to kill it properly until the ties that bound it to the place had been severed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

When he reached the Saffron and Pepper again, he found the couple again and explained in clipped tones what he needed them to do.

“Walk straight to your house. Lock the door, then you,” he pointed at the woman, “Gotta start the fire in the hearth as it is. Don’t add or remove anything.” 

Her face turned white at his words, but she nodded. He led them out of the city, toward the foggy woods, applying Specter oil to his silver sword as they walked.

“Straight into the cabin, light the fire, and don’t come out until I say so,” Letho ordered. The couple practically ran into their house and the door slammed behind them. As soon as the echoes of the sound had faded, a wraith materialized in front of the house.

Letho had only ever seen drawings of this type of wraith before. The drawings he had seen had been labeled simply, ‘Penitent’. It was twice as large as a normal wraith, sporting dark skin with curling white designs painted over its chest and arms. Red cloth fluttered below its waist in a non-existent breeze. It let out an unearthly cry that sent shivers coursing down the witcher’s bare arms, and waved a glowing lantern.

It attacked. Letho was forced to use nearly every ounce of his witcher training to avoid being slashed by the creature’s rusted blade. The speed with which it moved could nearly rival his own, but he couldn’t disappear and reappear at will. Knowing it would be useless to attack the monster until the woman lit the fire inside, Letho focused his energy on his defense. He parried and dodged as the creature slashed at him in quick strikes. Long minutes passed. 

Suddenly, the creature wavered, and its flesh took on a more solid appearance. Smoke had begun to drift from the chimney.

His moment of distraction was just enough for the wraith, and the creature’s sword bit into the thick muscle of his upper left arm. Snarling with anger, Letho surged forward in a burst of speed and slashed the monster across its torso, cutting a deep wound that sprayed the ground with black blood. The wraith vanished. Fully aware that it was far from defeated, Letho kept his guard up, every sense trained on the tiniest sound or flicker in the air. He waited.

The cabin door opened a crack and the man stuck his head out, looking around.

“Is it gone?” he asked. Letho spun on him with a shout of warning, but the wraith was too quick. It materialized in front of the man, and before he could do more than look up, it sliced off his head. His body was flung back into the cabin, and the door slammed as the woman began to shriek, the sound echoing dimly through the fog. 

The wraith paused, apparently considering the kill, and Letho took advantage of its moment of stillness. His silver sword flashed, slicing through dead flesh and bone, and the penitent let out a grating, screeching wail that mixed with the woman’s screams as it crumbled into glowing green dust. 

The woods were silent, save for the woman’s hysterical sobbing. The thick fog slowly began to dissipate, leaving the woods dappled with weak afternoon sunlight, and the birds started to sing again. Letho took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He looked at his arm, disgusted with the lapse in concentration that had earned him the bleeding cut, then he walked over to the cabin, sheathed his blade, and banged on the door.

“It’s dead, you can come out.”

The sobs issuing from the cabin died away, and a minute later the woman appeared at the doorway. Her eyes were even wilder than they had been before, the hysterical wideness etching deep lines into the skin around their corners. She seemed surprisingly calm, but she was also in shock. Something clinked promisingly as she handed Letho a small purse. 

“It’s all we have,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “Won’t be needing it now.” 

The door shut behind her. Letho stood for a moment, then he collected the ingredients he could find in the pile of wraith dust and began to walk back to the city. He was nearly at the city’s gate when the smell of burning wood caught his attention. It was drifting on the breeze blowing toward the city, not away from it. He turned and saw a plume of smoke in the distance, issuing from the spot where he guessed the cabin had been just minutes before.

The bartender at the Saffron and Pepper had seen the man Letho was looking for only three days earlier. Unfortunately, he didn’t know anything else about him. The witcher left once more, to ask the guards at each gate if they’d seen anyone matching his memorized description before evening fell. 

It was dark when Letho finally reached the western gate. One of the guards started in surprise and leveled a pike at him when he appeared silently out of the shadows. The other moved forward.

“State your business,” he commanded. Letho looked at him for a moment, letting the silence linger.

“Looking for a man.” 

“Tall and thin, with black hair?” the guard asked. “News travels fast here. We heard ye’ve been looking fer him. He and his companion left the city last night.”

“Where are they headed?”

“Didn’t say,” the first guard remarked, finally lowering his weapon. “But the only interesting thing in that direction is the city of Cidaris.”

Letho grunted his thanks and walked back to the Saffron and Pepper. His quarry was only about a day ahead of him, but he needed a night of real sleep and a good meal if he was gonna catch up. If his suspicion was correct, he could afford to give them an extra day. 

The bartender at the Saffron and Pepper was not exactly pleased to see him again, but gold was gold even in a prosperous city like Gors Velen. The man took Letho’s coin and gave him food and a room for the night, to the chagrin of one or two of the other patrons. Letho could hear them arguing on his way to bed. 

He flopped down onto the straw mattress with a sigh, and after making sure that his swords were within easy reach if need be, fell into a deep and nearly comatose sleep.

_ He was dancing. His feet seemed to know the steps, despite never having danced them before. Music drifted around the ballroom as he whirled his partner in careful circles. Their feet crunched on the floor, but no matter how often he looked down, he couldn’t see why. His partner laughed, the sound tinkling like a chorus of a thousand miniature silver bells. It made his teeth hurt. He looked down again._

_ The woman’s face was stunningly beautiful, with pale skin and wide blue eyes, accented by a full crimson mouth. Her head was wreathed in a halo of golden curls. When she smiled up at him, he saw rows of sharp, white fangs. _

_ He let go of her waist and stepped back in revulsion, tripping over something that wasn’t there. When he landed, he discovered that the floor was strewn with bones of all shapes and sizes. The woman laughed again, and he looked up to see her holding a body, his body, up in the air like a rag doll. His body was struggling weakly, eyes wide in fear. Raising a beautifully elegant hand, the woman used her long red nails to slice a thin line across his body’s neck. He felt the pain, gripping his throat in shock and terror, and wanted nothing more than to be able to look away, but he couldn’t. The woman forced him to watch as she tore him apart, piece by piece. _

Letho woke in a cold sweat._ ‘This is why sleeping is such a pain,’_ he thought. He sat up, intending to meditate until morning, and instead found a dark shadow crouching in his window. His sword was in his hand and he was out of bed in a flash. 

“Relax,” a light, melodious voice said in a sarcastic tone. “I’m not gonna do anything. Plus, I found something I think you’ll want to see.”

Coreil smelled distinctly of sewage, not his usual spicy cologne. Irritable already, Letho nearly groaned at the prospect of wandering around under the city before breakfast. Instead, he grunted and said, 

“Doubt it.”

Coreil ignored him.

“Time is short. Now, come on, before the drowners return.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6.**

The sewers beneath Gors Velen appeared to be an upper layer of the elven ruins on which the city was originally built. It was also disgusting. The stench assaulted Letho’s senses as he followed Coreil through the tunnels, the muck squelching under their feet.

“I like this kind of place,” Coreil said conversationally, kicking aside a dead rat. “Sewers are always honest.”

“And full of drowners,” Letho muttered, hearing screeches and movement in the distance. He drew his silver sword.

“No time, my friend, I’ll deal with them,” Coreil said, waving a hand. He pointed at a large hole in the crumbling wall. “Go through there and follow the path. Be careful, it isn’t the most stable thing. I’ll be right behind you.”

He vanished.

Letho stood, considering the gap in the stones for a moment, then sighed and did as Coreil said. The path beyond the wall seemed to have been sealed off long ago. Dust was thick on the ground, looking like it hadn’t been disturbed in hundreds of years. A minute later Coreil reappeared. 

“I’m not actually sure if you’re going to be interested in this,” Coreil admitted. “But I took the chance bringing you down here.”

Letho stopped in his tracks and stared down at the vampire.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Coreil was not intimidated.

“You’re wasting daylight,” he said instead, continuing down the path. “It’s not too far from here.”

He was right. They reached the bottom of the path, descended several flights of stairs, then stopped at a blank stone wall.

“Is this a joke?” Letho asked, almost amused. A glitter on the wall nearby caught his attention. Embedded in the wall was a blue, teardrop shaped crystal surrounded by a strange design. The witcher saw where this was going and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need a portal to get there,” Coreil murmured, smiling wickedly. “But you do.” 

Letho didn’t mind portals the way some people did. The magical light reminded him of the reflection of moonlight off water, and the feeling of moving through space as if it were air made his skin tingle agreeably. He stepped out of the glowing tunnel into a large, dimly lit room. It smelled like decay. Adjusting his eyes to the darkness, he looked around. Desks and bookshelves lined half of the walls, all groaning with old books, sheets of paper, and other clutter. The other side of the room was occupied by an assortment of machines and instruments that looked as if they could be used for anything from brewing to alchemy. The whole room seemed to be some sort of study or laboratory.

Coreil walked over to the middle of the room and stopped next to the lumpy pile there. 

“Thought you might be interested in this,” Coreil said, gesturing to the pile and the room at large. Walking forward, Letho stopped at the edge and looked down at what appeared to be at least a hundred years’ worth of human remains. The body on top was fresh. It had barely begun to bloat, so Letho could still clearly make out its features.

“Is this your man?”

“Nope,” Letho grunted, bending to inspect the corpse. The cause of death was clear; a huge gaping mess was all that was left of the man’s throat. He poked and prodded the body, checking for other clues. A red smudge on the man’s jaw caught his eye. He bent closer and rubbed a finger on the smudge, then pulled away and sniffed the residue. It was greasy, and made of several different ingredients, none of which were blood.

_‘Lipstick,’_ he thought, standing up. He rounded on Coreil, eyes narrowed.

“This woman… she really not a friend of yours?” . 

“A friend of mine?” Coreil repeated, eyes glittering. He grinned, showing all his pointed teeth. “If she was a friend, why would I be helping you hunt her? That’s hardly friendly.”

“You’re pretty keen on this whole contract. There a particular reason why?”

“That’s my business,” Coreil answered smugly. “All you need to know is that I’m here to stay for the moment.”

Letho thoughtfully stared at the pile of bodies. He could tell that Coreil was keeping something important from him, but there was obviously no point in pushing any further. The truth would come out eventually. 

It took Letho only a few minutes to conduct a thorough search of the room, where he found several odd things. He noted absently that though the whole room was thickly coated with dust, a set of footprints other than his or Coreil’s had recently disturbed the dust. The prints were of bare feet. He frowned for a moment, considering the prints, then he continued his investigation. Despite the various oddities that filled the room, most interesting to him was what seemed like at least a hundred years worth of dusty journals, all filled to the brim with writing and alchemical diagrams, although the language used wasn’t one he knew.

“‘Midsummer, year 1170. Returned to laboratory to find all my test subjects dead. So unfortunate. Will have to find more and restart my experiments as soon as possible.’” Coreil had appeared and was reading the page over Letho’s shoulder. He shrugged when Letho turned to look at him.

“It’s in the old vampire language,” he said. “Of course, you wouldn’t be able to read it.” 

Reaching over, Coreil plucked the journal out of Letho’s hands and began to rifle through the yellowed pages. 

“Anything interesting?” Letho asked, his patience starting to wear thin.

“Actually yes, but it would take too long to explain,” Coreil replied. He hummed for a moment, then replaced the volume on the shelf and pulled off the only book there that wasn’t old and covered in cobwebs. After a long moment of turning pages, Coreil lifted the journal and showed Letho the drawing on the white paper.

“Is this…” he asked slowly, watching Letho’s expression. Letho was no novice at hiding what he felt, so Coreil only saw a blank expression.

“Yep. Ranhak.” 

“‘Finally found him,’” Coreil read. “‘I shall take him with me on my search, so he does not die as quickly as the others. I know where the last ingredients are hidden, and I will be there as fast as I can drag his frail, mortal body.’”

“Fantastic,” Letho grunted. “Not only is she dangerous, she’s also insane.” 

“Oh, I could’ve told you that,” Coreil said blithely, eyebrows raised, his face as bland as his voice. Letho shot him a disgusted look.

“We need to move,” he finally said. “We’re wasting time.”

“Tell me a story,” Coreil said, his light, melodic voice sounding almost whiny. Letho poked a stick in the fire and moved a burning log into a better position, stifling the urge to lean across the flames and smack him upside the head. They’d been traveling for about six days, sticking near the coast for the most part. The longer Letho spent in Coreil’s company the better he could stand the other man, but sometimes he sorely missed the days he spent riding between towns, completely alone. 

“Not great with telling stories,” he finally replied. “You tell one.”

Coreil sat up, looking excited. 

“Ooh, good idea,” he said. “Let me think.” 

Letho reclined against his saddlebags and watched the firelight flickering and sparking against the darkness of the sky. They had camped in a fairly open spot off the road to Cidaris, in a place where Letho could just barely hear the ocean in the distance. The stars twinkled above them. A gentle breeze blew the scent of salt through the camp, tickling Letho’s nose with its pleasant tang.

“Got it!” Coreil exclaimed. He sat up even straighter and leaned forward, his face lit by the flames between them. A red spark glittered in his dark eyes. 

“In my world, it was the year of the seventh fog, but I suppose that doesn’t mean anything to you. Anyway, you wouldn’t have believed the day I’d had. I’d had a ferocious argument with my mother and she’d nearly torn out my guts.” He chuckled, and went on. “That aside, I was on my way home when the sky went dark. The ground began to shake, as if something inside it desperately wanted to get out. Suddenly, there was the most awful noise.”

Pausing, he blinked hard and looked at his hands, momentarily lost for words, then he continued.

“It was like the screaming of millions of souls being burned in your “eternal flame,” mixed with the most horrible ripping sounds you can imagine. The sounds grew even louder, and as they peaked, the air in front of me just… tore open. It was both beautiful and terrible, full of colorful spinning lights and darkness. Well, the force of the tear pulled me inside, and for a short time, I was so lost.” Coreil paused again, and his eyes filled with wonder as he recalled.

“I saw incredible things. And dreadful things. And when it finally spat me out, I was here,” he said, gesturing to their campsite. “Well, not here exactly, I was somewhere else completely, but here in this world. I always enjoyed studying the interactions of life in my world, but your life forms are even more interesting than the ones I used to study. I didn’t even mourn my displacement.”

Coreil finished and seemingly became lost in thought. While he was quiet, Letho did some quick math.

“How old are you?” he asked. Coreil started, drawn out of his reverie. 

“In your years? I have no idea,” he said. 

“Gotta be over 1,500 years old,” Letho drawled, not letting the shock he felt show on his face. He’d known that higher vampires were long lived, he had just never thought they’d be quite _so_ long lived.

“Something like that,” Coreil said absently. “Your numbering systems have changed plenty of times in my life. I can hardly be bothered to keep track these days.”

“So, you were around for the making of the first witcher,” Letho said. “What was that like?”

Coreil grimaced.

“A fascinating business, but a nasty one. Lots of trial and error, lots of screaming children... all with interesting results.” He flashed his teeth in a wide grin. “You witchers never fail to amuse me in one way or another.” 

“Glad we can be of service.”

“Oh, don’t be such a lump,” Coreil said. “If you were my age you’d be more understanding. Even witchers die of old age eventually, but my kind can only be killed by one of our own, otherwise we continue to live. Friendships and lovers are all well and good but higher vampires are not exactly abundant, and other races die so easily. We have to find something to occupy ourselves or we’ll go crazy with boredom.” 

“So, some of you choose to be nuisances,” Letho drawled, “and others choose to be serial killers?”

Coreil gestured vaguely around.

“Life takes everyone in different directions,” he said. “How was I supposed to know you’d find me a nuisance?” 

Letho couldn’t help it. He let out a low chuckle, visibly surprising the other man.

“Dunno,” he said as Coreil stared at him, eyebrows raised. Ignoring the reaction, Letho shifted into his knees, and began to breathe deeply. He slipped into meditation, leaving Coreil with nothing to do but begin his nightly wanderings.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for canon typical violence, lads

**Chapter 7.**

_ ‘At this rate, I’m never gonna catch up to that woman,’ _Letho thought, staring at the notice board. He and Coreil had stopped in a small village west of the Cidarin border to buy some more food and possibly locate more work. Unfortunately, the contract Letho had found looked much more difficult than just killing a few drowners.

“‘Bodies dug up in the graveyard,’” he read out loud. “‘Need witcher, or anyone stout of heart.’”

“Goodness,” Coreil said, also reading the notice. “Sounds like a true romp in the making.” 

The expression Letho leveled at him was one of bland disbelief. 

“You’re welcome to it,” he drawled. “Who am I to steal your ‘fun’?” 

“Oh, no, I’d much rather assist you,” the vampire replied, grinning so that every one of his pointed teeth sparkled in the sunlight. Disgusted, Letho reached out and ripped the notice off the board. 

The village headman was glad for their offer of help, despite the price. From what he said between wringing his hands and pacing about, this problem had been a thorn in his side for months. He said that people had been going to mourn their dead, only to find them dug up and ripped apart. In the past week, two mourners had actually gone missing.

“Not a pleasant thing to deal with,” Letho said as they rode in the direction of the village graveyard, “but a fairly straightforward one.” 

“How is it straightforward?” Coreil asked. 

“Graves dug up, corpses ripped open, mourners disappearing?” Letho rubbed a hand over his shaved scalp, feeling the rough stubble against his palm. “Seen it before. Probably a grave hag, but if not, it's definitely a necrophage.”

The monster had been quite active the night before, burying at least one fresh corpse in a new grave. That itself was unusual, but Letho could also see the tell-tale signs of claw marks in the dirt around the graves. Plenty of bodies had been dug up and dismembered, some so old that only a few bleached bones had been unearthed. The fresh body had not begun to smell yet, but the reek of rotting flesh was thick on the breeze blowing from one corner of the graveyard. When Letho walked over, he found about half of a bloated, stinking body. The rest of the corpse had either been eaten or carted away to the monster’s den. Several chewed bones had been left behind, scattered next to the mess of remains.

“Grave hag,” Letho confirmed. “Did a contract on one of these a few years ago. Gotta find her hut.”

Coreil followed the witcher through the trees until they found a tiny, ramshackle house. The stink of rotten meat issued from inside and wafted out when Letho opened the door. 

“Bizarre,” Coreil murmured, stepping inside after Letho. He picked a human skull off a nearby shelf and studied it. 

“Woulda thought you’d have seen everything there is to see, being so old,” Letho said, and peered into the cauldron over the hearth. He withdrew quickly and turned around. “Grab those bones, we’ll need them.”

Letho sat in meditation several hours later, waiting for dusk when the grave hag would most likely appear. He breathed deeply. His sword sat beside him, already coated with necrophage oil and gleaming in the fading light. Coreil had hidden the horses then vanished, hiding somewhere nearby, no doubt to have a better view of the proceedings.

When the sound of shuffling feet and snarling reached the witcher’s ears, he stood, scooping his blade into one hand and popping the cork from a small bottle with the other. He chugged the contents and threw the bottle aside, preparing his now empty hand to cast a sign. The blood in his veins turned to poison. He felt it oozing through his body as he watched the approaching monster.

What he saw surprised him. Not one, but two creatures crept toward him, hissing and growling like a pair of furious cats. One was tall and thin, with white, lanky hair, and skin as pale as the moon. Her hideous countenance could only be matched by the monster next to her, who was shorter, and dark compared to her pallor. Both monsters bared their long, discolored teeth when they saw the witcher.

“Pale beastie,” the dark one snarled, long strings of black drool dripping from her jaws.

“Thieving beastie,” the white one whined, “stole our prizes, destroyed our prizes…”

“Food for many moons…” one said.

“Many moons,” the other agreed. They attacked.

With only his skills and instinct pitted against an unfortunate death, Letho thrust magic from his fingertips, casting purple, glowing signs into the ground. The creatures hit the invisible barrier and slowed just enough for the witcher to spring out from their reach. Casting yet another sign, Letho dodged again as the warm gold light of Quen surrounded him, then swung his sword, targeting the tall, thin grave hag. Before his blade struck, the other was between them, parrying his blow with long, sharp claws. Letho had to jump nimbly back to avoid being lashed by snake-like, venomous tongues. He dodged and struck again, this time his sword swung into empty air.

_‘They’re fast,’_ he thought, narrowly avoiding another round of the creatures’ attacks. After a split second’s consideration, he pulled on his magic and cast Yrden onto the ground between him and the monsters. They sprang at him, and once again were slowed by the sign. Letho took his chance, slithering in to slash both monsters with his silver blade. The metal caught each in a different place, but Letho didn’t care. The necrophage oil would begin its work. He dodged back again, trying to distance himself from the angry hags as quickly as possible, but he wasn’t quite quick enough. The first creature’s tongue broke his Quen shield, and the second lashed him across the forearm. 

Cursing vividly, Letho stumbled back, feeling the grave hag’s poison enter his bloodstream and mix with the black blood he’d already ingested. He suddenly felt nauseous. Darkness flickered in front of his vision. It took only a fraction of a second for Letho to realize what had happened. He focused on his hearing. The whistle of claws through the air alerted him to the attack. Relying solely on instinct, Letho quirked his fingers and fired Axii in the direction of the onslaught, then drove his sword upward. The metal sliced through something solid, and he jerked hard, his blade cleaving his attacker in two. 

Wasting no time basking in the kill, Letho blinked hard as his vision returned to normal, and looked for the second monster, his sword raised. The remaining grave hag stared at the lifeless body of her sister, then rushed him, keening shrilly, but he dodged away. The poison from the first monster’s tongue was still affecting his movements, but the remaining monster seemed unstable. She screamed, her tongue whipping out toward him. Letho dodged again, but the tongue caught him on the cheek. He snarled, his vision going black again. Furious with himself, he listened carefully. 

For long minutes he listened and dodged, doing his best to avoid her attacks while blinded. He managed quite well, but she still sliced him open in several places with her claws. Using Axii again, he bought himself a moment to breathe, and listened hard once more as the sign’s strength waned. His breath heaved. The pounding of his heart reverberated in his ears, making it difficult to hear. He focused, ignoring the pain of his cuts and the throbbing caused by the poison.

The snap of the monster’s tongue rang out again. Prepared this time, Letho ducked aside and swung, neatly severing the venomous appendage, then strained to dodge backward again. His limbs did not want to cooperate, but he willed them to move. Enraged beyond reason now, the hag pounced on him, claws extended. An airborne, headlong attack was too predictable, and even partially blinded, Letho could still manage to counter. He slashed his sword in as brutal an arc as he could muster, and the hag stiffened, the blade lodged firmly in her side. The creature let out a blood-curdling screech. Dredging up the last of his strength, Letho jerked the sword, then heaved. His last effort severed the monster’s spine, and the sword met open air on the other side of her body. 

Letho stumbled back and sank to the ground, panting hard. Sweat trickled down his back.

_‘The black blood was a mistake,’_ he thought. His body shuddered, and he blinked, trying to clear the darkness from his vision. Something moved in front of him, blocking the moonlight.

“Are you alright?” a light voice asked.

“Golden Oriole,” he groaned, feeling sick. “Left pocket of right saddlebag.”

The shape vanished, then returned a minute later. A cork popped, and a small bottle was pressed into his hand. He drank. The potion tasted vile, but it began to work immediately. After a few moments of deep breathing, Letho got to his feet. He shook his head, then turned to Coreil.

“Thanks,” he grunted. 

“No problem,” the vampire replied, the lines around his mouth deepening. His eyes looked worried.

Ignoring the concern, Letho drew his belt knife and bent to collect a trophy from each monster. When both were in hand, he followed Coreil back to the horses and tied the trophies to his saddle. It took some effort to haul himself up onto his horse’s back. His muscles felt surprisingly weak. He urged the animal into a trot, grumbling as the bouncing joggled his wounds, and turned to Coreil.

“I hope they pay double,” he said.

The headman did indeed pay double. He was so overjoyed that he even offered to put both Letho and Coreil up for the night in the tiny village inn. Letho accepted both the gold and the offer, knowing that he would need to sleep for several hours to recover from his fight with the two grave hags. Coreil accepted as well, but left through the window as soon as Letho had settled in for the night. Gratefully flopping onto the bed, Letho let his body relax. Sleep took him. 

_ He was dancing again, only this time it was Coreil who he was whirling in careful circles. The vampire was striking in a blood-red ball gown that rustled as they danced. Waves of iridescent black hair draped over his elegant shoulders, framing his angular face. His lips were painted the same red as his dress, and garnet drops winked in his earlobes. Coreil grinned up at him, sharp teeth sparkling in the dim light._

_ The floor crunched beneath their feet, but no matter how much he looked down, he could only see their feet. When he looked up again, he was sitting on the floor, bones strewn around him. Coreil and the blonde, angelic woman faced each other in the middle of the dance floor. Both vampires had fangs bared and claws extended. They sprang toward each other with the ferocity of starving, rabid dogs._

Letho woke and sat up, instinctively reaching for his sword. 

“Bad dreams again?” someone asked as a gust of spicy scent wafted over the witcher. When Letho looked around, he saw Coreil sitting in a chair in the corner of the small room. The vampire leaned forward, eyes intent on Letho’s face.

“Never said anything about bad dreams,” Letho grunted, setting his sword down and swinging his legs over the side of the straw-stuffed mattress.

“You don’t have to,” Coreil replied. “I saw the last bit when I came in through the window. I did look good in that dress though, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off,” Letho said, and stood, gathering his saddlebags and swords.

“She’s part of the reason why you’re having the dreams, you know,” Coreil commented, following the witcher down the stairs.

“How so?”

“Higher vampires have a range of talents, including telepathy and occasionally the ability to control dreams,” Coreil said, swinging onto his horse and waiting for Letho to do the same. “This one is particularly strong if she’s influencing your dreams without meaning to.”

The witcher didn’t reply. Coreil’s reasoning made sense, but Letho deeply despised anything or anyone that could influence his mind without his explicit permission. He felt a bit violated.

“Don’t look so grim,” Coreil said cheerfully. “We only have four days of travel left before we reach Cidaris.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, vague backstory

**Chapter 8.**

Cidaris was even larger and busier than Gors Velen. Letho shouldered disgustedly through the early morning crowd in the streets, having left Coreil and the horses outside the city walls. People stumbled hastily out of his way as he headed toward the nearest notice board, intent on the large piece of paper pinned on top of all the others.

Unfortunately, the large paper turned out to be some sort of formal declaration, so Letho ignored it. He found a more promising, dingier piece of paper closer to the bottom of the board, and read it carefully. 

“Missing cat,” the notice read. “Need help.” 

Thinking that irritating work was better than no work, Letho went in search of the person who had posted the notice. 

Coreil knelt by the body of a small creature, slicing it open to pull glands from inside the still-warm flesh. They were the last things he needed for a potion he had been wanting to make. 

“Finally,” he murmured, dropping to the ground next to the mamune’s corpse and fishing several small vials out of the inside pockets of his long jacket. In a moment, he had a cauldron set up in front of him, a fire blazing beneath the sturdy iron. He began to add ingredients.

It took three hours to brew the potion the way he wanted it. When it was finished, he poured the liquid carefully into several clean vials and waited for it to cool slightly before corking each and tucking them carefully away. He scrubbed the cauldron out and doused the fire, then drank the final dose of the potion and settled back into his seated position to wait. 

Scents drifted to his nose. The midday breeze ruffled his hair. He closed his eyes, then opened them again onto a scene he remembered well. 

_ He sat on a stump in the middle of a sun-dappled forest, watching a pair of young children playing with each other in a vigorous manner. They tumbled like baby wildcats in the leaf litter, squalling and giggling in turn. One child, a girl with a long black braid, pushed the other down and sat on her chest, laughing maniacally while the other girl, an angelic looking child with gold curls wreathing her face, wriggled furiously._

_ “That’s cheating!” the golden-haired child yelled._

_ “No it’s not!” the other replied, still laughing. They continued to tussle as he watched._

_ Sunlight and forest blurred. He now stood in a meadow, rays from the setting sun illuminating the grass swaying around him. A young woman stood nearby, dressed for a night out. Her angelic halo of golden curls glowed in the light as she turned, seemingly waiting for something._

_ “Sorry I’m late,” someone panted. A woman with long, iridescent black hair ran toward the first woman, pulling her skirts up so they wouldn’t get in the way. _

_ “We were going to leave an hour ago!” the woman with golden hair snapped. “We’re both late now!”_

_ “Oh, don’t be so uptight,” the woman with black hair laughed, dusting off her skirt. “They won’t care.”_

_ The blonde scowled, but she accepted when the other offered her hand. They turned to mist._

_ The scene shifted again. He stood at the edge of an ancient, crumbling courtyard. The two women faced each other, their clothes in tatters, their faces twisted in bestial anger. They sprang at each other in a ferocious mockery of their childhood play. Long claws tore into flesh. Teeth ripped skin and clothes alike. He watched in horror as the two women sliced each other to ribbons._

_ Colors blurred. He sat on a wall, overlooking a courtyard that he’d never seen before. A group of children sparred in the center of the courtyard, battering each other with wooden swords. One tripped and fell on his backside with a thump._

_ “Letho, you clumsy whelp,” a man snapped, stalking forward to haul the youngster bodily to his feet. “Ten laps around the keep for your lapse in concentration!”_

_ The boy tottered off out of sight as the others resumed sparring. _

_ The scene changed one more time. He stood inside a small cabin, watching a frightened-looking, naked woman swirling a stone basin full of deep red liquid. She dipped her hands into the basin and began to bathe._

Coreil opened his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. His hands shook when he glanced down at them, and he grimaced.

“Come on, my loves,” he murmured to the horses nearby. “Hide yourselves, I’ll be back in a little while.”

He turned to mist and sped over the city wall, following the scent of the witcher he now knew quite well. The aroma in the air led him to a bathhouse. It was easy enough for him to ooze under the door and follow the scent, which he realized was quite a bit more powerful than it usually was.

He found Letho in a private room with a large, steaming tub. The witcher was soaking in the hot water, his eyes closed, and didn’t even jump when Coreil re-materialized. The vampire took a brief moment to appreciate the sight of the witcher’s broad chest before he spoke.

“Whoof,” he said, covering his nose. “You stink!”

Letho opened his eyes just enough to glare at Coreil, a sliver of yellow showing beneath his lids.

“Can’t help it,” he grunted. “Contract ended up leading me to a zeugl. Got covered in trash before I killed it. You wouldn’t believe the fuss the people here put up when I asked for a bath.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Coreil replied, still holding his nose. “Will you be ready to leave by tomorrow?” 

“Yep. Talked to the guards at the west gate. Ranhak is headed to Bremervoord.”

Coreil nodded. 

“I’ll meet you outside the western gate tomorrow morning, then,” he managed, and disappeared in a cloud of red mist.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw! if that isn't your thing, the next chapter should be out sometime soonish :D

**Chapter 9.**

It was late in the afternoon when Letho finally left the bathhouse. He was cleaner than he had been in several weeks, and he’d forgotten how nice it felt to not be covered in sweat, dirt, and blood. Something about the cleanliness of his skin and an odd feeling in his gut sent him strolling down the street, looking up at the signs above the shops. One caught his attention and he pushed the door open.

“Welcome to the Clinking Purse,” an older woman behind the counter said. “Best and classiest women arou— Oh, gods above.” 

The woman had finally turned and seen Letho standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she looked him up and down. Whispers filled the room as the other women turned to look at him as well.

“We usually… don’t…” she began, but a voice from a back room interrupted her.

“He’s what?!” 

A woman in revealing lingerie barged out of a back room and ran forward, interrupting the other woman before she had time to finish her sentence. 

“Good afternoon,” she said, rather breathlessly, her eyes sparkling. Her skin glowed a healthy bronzed-peach, with twin pink roses blooming in her cheeks. Crimson paint drew the eye to her full lips. A tumble of bronze curls fell around her shoulders as she looked up at Letho, her face positively beaming with excitement. Taken aback, Letho didn’t respond to her greeting right away. Usually women in brothels greeted him with anything from distrust to open disdain. He couldn’t remember if any woman had ever seen him in a brothel and looked excited before.

“Well, if you’re here,” she said, grabbing his hand. He didn’t resist as she pulled him up the stairs. The voice of the older woman floated up after them, sounding put-out, but the woman ignored her.

“I’m Aphi,” she said. “You are here for our services, yes?” 

Letho stared at her, not really knowing what to say. He nodded. Aphi let out a long breath and reached out to push him down to sit on the bed. Letho watched, bemused, as she removed his weapons and began to undo his armor with the ease and speed of someone who’d done it many times before. He’d never bought a prostitute who knew how to undress him before, usually they balked at so many hidden buckles and straps. Aphi was grinning as she pulled his chest piece over his head, then removed the layers of cloth beneath it until Letho was bare from the waist up. This also bemused him, as every prostitute he’d ever been with before had always gone immediately for his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” he said as the woman climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. Aphi stopped caressing his chest and shot him a beguiling smile.

“Don’t you worry, honey, I’m just appreciating the view. I didn’t know the gods made them this big…”

She bent and kissed him just below the collarbone. 

“I’ve only ever heard of witcher’s famed stamina,” she said. “I’d be honored to test it out myself.”

“Been a while, so I can’t promise anything,” he muttered, feeling embarrassment for the first time in possibly years. Aphi chuckled warmly and ran her hands over his muscled torso, her painted fingernails dragging slightly. 

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “Just lookin’ at you is nice enough, any more is just a bonus.” 

Letho looked up at her through half-lidded eyes, beginning to feel very warm beneath his trousers. 

“How do you like it?” he asked, feeling his voice rumble in his chest. He reached up and gripped Aphi around the waist, feeling the give of soft flesh under his fingers. 

“Hmm,” the woman said, seeming to think as she undid his trousers. “I like a firm touch, but nothing too violent.”

Her hand closed tight around his cock and he groaned, resisting the urge to flip her over and fuck her senseless until he found release. Part of the fun of having a partner that found him appealing was pleasing them as well, however, as soon as Aphi began to work on him, he forgot everything and succumbed to the sensations coursing through his body.

Aphi was truly an expert with her hands. Letho was moaning within minutes. She bent and enveloped him with her lips, and he nearly came then and there. No matter how determined he was to enjoy the feeling of her warm, wet mouth for as long as he could, he came a few short minutes later, grunting as Aphi milked him for all he was worth.

“That was a bit faster than I was expecting,” she said, straightening up and wiping her mouth. 

“Not done yet,” Letho grunted, and sat up to lift her expertly and easily off his thighs. In a flurry of movement, he flipped over and dumped Aphi on the bed beneath him. She let out an excited squeal as she hit the sheets. 

“If I’m paying for your body, I wanna see it,” Letho drawled, slipping a finger under the front of her bra. Perfectly willing, Aphi undid the garment, letting the curves of her breasts spill out into Letho’s waiting hands. He kneaded the flesh, then dipped his head to take one bronze nipple between his teeth. The sound Aphi let out was extremely gratifying. He paid careful attention to both breasts as one of his hands slid beneath her underwear, between her ample thighs, and found her entrance slick and ready for him. Aphi whined when he pushed a finger inside her, then added another. Letho pulled back to watch her face and he drove his fingers into her heat. He’d done it plenty of times before and knew what usually worked the best. The woman melted beneath him, mewling and squirming as he brought her to climax over and over again. 

Aphi let out a cry of mixed surprise and pleasure when he yanked off her underwear and pushed his cock inside her, spreading her walls with his girth. He gave her a few moments to breathe, then began to thrust his hips. Her body clenched around him. Hitching her up into a better position, he increased his pace. His hips slapped against her ass.

“Yes, oh gods, yes!” Aphi cried, digging her fingernails into Letho’s shoulders as she hung on for dear life. He felt her body tightening as his own climax approached.

“Witchers aren’t… fertile, right?” Aphi said in between gasps. Letho nodded. “Perfect,” she moaned, “please, cum… inside… me.” 

The words sent Letho over the edge and he scooped her into his arms, pressing her body against his as he thrust once more and came hard, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. She writhed in his arms and came with him, her walls squeezing every last drop of release from his softening erection. 

Letho rolled off her and flopped down onto the bed, his chest heaving with the effort it took for him to pull in air. He was out of practice. They lay in that position for a few minutes, letting the afterglow warm them from head to foot, then Letho sat up and swung his legs over the side of the mattress.

“How much?” he asked, beginning to collect his scattered clothing. The woman pushed herself up.

“Gods, how am I supposed to put a price on that kind of sex?” she asked. Letho let out a soft chuckle and did up his pants.

“Isn’t that your job?” he asked in return, fishing his coin pouch out of his pocket. She laughed as well, and beckoned him over. He walked obediently to the bedside, and waited for her to name her price.

“I’d rather not, but…” She named a price that was far below what he was expecting.

“Shouldn’t you be asking for more?”

Aphi raised her eyebrows and a slow, wicked smile spread over her plump mouth. She held out a hand to accept the coins, then reached up and pulled Letho down, kissing him softly on the mouth.

“That’s all the payment I need,” she said smugly, pushing him away. “Now shoo, before I change my mind.” 

He was dressed and halfway down the stairs when Aphi appeared in the doorway, still completely naked.

“Do feel free to come back any time,” she said. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. Letho nodded, and left the building, feeling warm all over.

“You look refreshed,” Coreil commented when Letho found him the next morning. “And you smell better, too. Almost like perfume, how strange.”

Letho ignored that and swung onto his horse.

“Wasting time,” he grunted, urging his horse into a trot. Coreil grinned and followed suit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

“This is the last contract I’m taking until I catch that woman,” Letho said angrily, glowering down at Coreil. The two had been traveling through the wilderness for several days before they chanced upon a small town.

“You’re going to decline work?” the vampire asked. Letho shrugged, and knocked on the door in front of them. A man opened the door, looking nervous. His face twitched when he saw who was standing on his doorstep, but he stepped outside, nonetheless.

He spoke quickly, his voice soft, and within a few minutes Letho had the whole picture. The man’s sweetheart had gone missing nearly a month back. He hadn’t been able to find anyone to look for the woman until the witcher showed up. According to him, several other young women had gone missing in the past few months. When Letho asked if they all had anything in common, the man didn’t even have to think about the question before he answered.

“They’s all pretty young things,” he said, looking around anxiously. “All went missin’ round the full of the moon.”

When he’d finished telling his story, he slipped back inside his house and shut the door with a snap, locking it from the inside.

“Just find out what happened to my sweetie,” his muffled voice sounded through the lock hole. “I’ll pay ya what I can.”

Letho snorted irritably, wishing he could just continue on his original contract, but he went around the village anyway, asking around about the missing women. He found plenty of men who were willing to complain about how their woman had run off some time ago, and got a decent amount of information from them. Other townsfolk had heard of the situation, and most were willing to talk.

“Saw a lady go there,” a young boy said, pointing in the direction of the nearby woods. “‘Twas late, dinna see much besides her dress.”

Coreil bent to thank the child as Letho stared off into the woods where the boy had pointed. He thought he could see a faint path through the grass there, but he’d have to take a closer look and search the woods.

“Missing women is always a head-scratcher,” Coreil said, catching up to Letho at the edge of the village. “You never know what’s doing it.”

Not pleased with being talked to while working, Letho only grunted. They were already a fair way into the forest, and the trees were beginning to thicken. Through the dim light, Letho could see the imprints of tracks in the damp ground and disturbances in the leaf litter. He continued to follow the trail.

The tracks ended at a small cave entrance. Letho peered inside, sniffing experimentally, and straightened.

“Going in,” he grunted, unsheathing his silver sword. Coreil shrugged.

“Right behind you,” he replied.

The tunnel widened after the entrance, letting the two men walk fully upright without banging their heads. Scents drifted up toward them on a cold, damp breeze.

“That’s terrible,” Coreil said in a muffled voice, covering his nose with his hand.

“Not that bad,” Letho said. “The sewers were worse.”

“Yes, but this smells like… wet… cat? I hate cats!”

“Wuss.”

Letho left Coreil scoffing behind him and kept moving further into the cave, eyes and ears alert. He too smelled the rank, wet smell that Coreil had noticed, and it made him a little nervous. Cats didn’t usually live in caves. He was suspicious of what he would find, but his suspicions were unlikely to be true, no matter what the clues pointed toward.

What they found was a medium sized cavern. A small, beaten desk sat to one side of the space, covered in papers, quills, and ink bottles. Most of the rest of the cave was littered with piles of bones and shreds of old fabric. Deep scratches covered the cave walls.

“This is gross,” Coreil complained. Letho ignored him and stooped to pick something up off the ground.

‘A ball of fur?’ Letho wondered, looking closer. It was indeed a ball of long, coarse fur, smelling strongly of cat. He grunted and dropped the fur.

“C’mon,” Letho said, heading toward the cave entrance. “Need to go back to town.”

“For the last time,” a woman’s voice snapped, “I said no.”

The sound stopped Letho in his tracks. He turned toward the noise and listened carefully. The people speaking seemed to be behind a nearby house. The low murmur of a man’s voice followed the outburst, then the woman spoke again.

“Leave me alone.”

The man said something else, which apparently interested the woman, who stayed quiet for the rest of the time Letho stood there. He moved on. No one else in the town said anything helpful until he heard an old woman whispering about how she’d seen her neighbor wandering out of the village late at night and returning early in the morning. When Letho asked, she pointed him in the direction of her neighbor’s house without a word.

“Who is it?” snapped a voice from inside the house.

“A witcher. Open up.”

A long minute passed before the door was grudgingly shunted open. Bloodshot, drooping eyes looked up at Letho out of a pale, haggard face. Dark purple circles made the man’s expression even more baleful. He seemed fairly young, maybe in his mid twenties, but he looked exhausted and possibly sick.

“What?” the man asked. “What do you want?”

“You seen any young women going into the woods?”

“The woods?”

The man scratched his unshaven chin.

“Don’t think so,” he said. “I haven’t been paying attention to much lately.”

“You don’t look so good,” Letho commented.

The man shrugged, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just tired. Now if you don’t have anything else to ask, I’m going back to bed.”

Letho didn’t move as the door slammed in his face. He was thinking hard about the things he’d found in the cave.

“Get out of my way,” someone snapped. Letho turned around with deliberate slowness, looking down at the newcomer with narrowed eyes. He saw someone that looked quite similar to the man who had just vanished inside the house, except healthier.

“I, uh, I need to get into my house,” the new man said nervously, quelling under Letho’s gaze. His voice sounded familiar. Letho stepped out of the way and let him go by, still thinking. After another minute of silence, Coreil spoke.

“Well, what now?”

“Back to the cave,” Letho muttered to him. “Gotta wait for nightfall, when it’ll come out.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11.**

The sun was beginning to set when something finally happened. Crouching in a tree near the mouth of the cave, Letho heard leaves crunching underfoot. The sound grew closer, then someone stumbled out of bushes, clearly just barely in control of their body. The witcher leaned forward. He saw that the figure was the sickly looking man he’d spoken to earlier in the day. The man looked even worse now, with dark purple marks around his wild, unseeing eyes, and a dribble of foam leaked from his mouth. He gasped, muttered to himself, and staggered into the cave, nearly knocking his head on the low part of the entrance.

‘Can’t believe no one followed him,’ Letho thought. A moment later, he heard another set of approaching footsteps. He nearly rolled his eyes when he saw the woman who pushed her way through the bushes. She looked nervous and excited, and obviously had no idea what was about to happen to her if Letho didn’t intervene. He sighed, and dropped out of the tree, landing softly behind her.

The woman nearly screamed but Letho managed to clamp a large hand over her mouth before the sound came out.

“Stupid,” he drawled, keeping his voice quiet. “Very stupid. Now be quiet, and I’ll let you go.”

He released her when he was sure she wouldn’t scream and took a step back.

“Why’re you here?” he asked. The woman was only too happy to tell him everything, tears of fear and embarrassment leaking down her cheeks. When she was done, Letho stepped aside and let her run past him back the way she’d come.

“So, his brother told her he’d be here?” Coreil asked, materializing next to the witcher. Letho nodded.

“The brother knows what’s going on, then.”

Letho nodded again, feeling tired. He needed to get a night of real sleep again, and he wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of a fight.

A scream pulled Letho out of his thoughts. The sound was echoing up from the cave below, magnified by the stone walls.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Coreil commented, looking toward the noise.

Letho drew his silver sword and pulled a vial of oil from a pocket.

“Therianthrope,” he muttered to himself, oiling the blade. “‘Regenerate any damage received in mere moments.’” He selected a bomb from a different pocket and examined it for a moment.

“Didn’t smell like a werewolf,” Coreil mused. “Smelled more like…”

“Yep. These bastards are rare. Never seen one before.”

He strode toward the cave entrance, his feet making no noise on the ground. Another howl of agony ripped through the air, hitting Letho’s eardrums like a hammer, and he flinched. Waiting for silence, he crept down the tunnel, sword at the ready.

A feral snarl alerted him to danger a moment before the attack came, and he barely had time to react. Finger-length claws clashed against his blade, driving him backwards. A hideous, furred face with massive fangs loomed out of the darkness, hissing furiously. The creature was several feet taller than Letho, covered in black fur, and rippling with muscles that were even larger than his. Two pointed ears protruded from its furry head, and a tail whipped around its clawed feet. The cat-like monster yowled and slashed at Letho again, claws extended. He skipped back and parried.

Igni flared from his fingers, causing the werecat to jump away from him, screeching with pain as the flames singed its fur and burned into its skin. A bomb followed the sign, and the force of the explosion caused both Letho and the creature to jump backwards. A cloud of poison filled the air. Letho felt the toxins enter his lungs and he forced down the cough that wanted to explode from his chest, focusing instead on where the monster was.

Coreil appeared suddenly, standing in front of the werecat as if it were an interesting tree.

“Bizarre,” he muttered. “No wonder it smells so bad.”

The monster lashed out, it’s claws cutting through the empty air where Coreil had been standing. It looked around, confused by the sudden disappearance.

“Would you be deeply offended,” Coreil asked, appearing again by Letho’s side, “if I took this one?”

Letho straightened, a bit surprised. The poison from his bomb was still affecting his breathing. A fight with something so nasty might not be a good idea.

“Not especially,” he said. Coreil laughed, his teeth flashing in the darkness. He lifted a hand, his pointed fingernails elongating into talons, then vanished. Letho couldn’t even follow the speed of his movement. The werecat let out a terrible scream and collapsed, its blood leaking out onto the cave floor.

“Coming in,” Letho said sharply, shoving the door open with one hand. The man inside shot to his feet, looking angrily from Letho to Coreil.

“Get out,” he snapped. “I never said you could come in.”

“I know about your game,” Letho said, effectively shutting him up. “You’ve been sending the women who reject you to your brother every full moon. Easy way to get your revenge, huh?”

A shocked then furious expression spread over the man’s face, twisting his features into a mask of anger.

“What did you do to him?” he hissed. His face contorted even further, and he bared his teeth, showing yellowed fangs. “I’ll kill you!”

The space was too small. Letho only had time to reach for his sword as the man sprang across the table, his body shifting in midair, but the tip of the silver blade hit the low beams of the ceiling as he drew it, catching him just long enough for the beast to strike. It swiped a huge, clawed hand across Letho’s chest before he could recover. The witcher’s leather armor was good, but it couldn’t stand up to a werecat’s claws, and it gave way, leaving four deep cuts in his chest.

A split second later, he was knocked to the floor by the monster’s momentum. The breath left his lungs when he hit the floor, but he kept his wits enough to hold onto his sword. The monster leapt off Letho with a yowl, apparently under the impression that he was incapacitated, and headed straight toward Coreil, who was still standing in the open doorway. This was a mistake.

Letho saw a wicked sparkle of teeth and the vampire disappeared in a cloud of red mist, reappearing behind the beast. Talons flashed, and a spray of crimson splattered across the walls and floor, peppering Letho with scarlet droplets as he clambered to his feet. His own blood was beginning to drip gently onto the ground, and he felt the typical dizziness beginning to set in.

“Gonna take the pay as well as the kill?” Letho said with a grunt. He dabbed at his wounds without any effect, then turned and kicked the lifeless body of the creature, more in annoyance than in real anger. He was going to have to deal with his wounds fairly soon, or he’d have a real problem on his hands.

“Of course not,” Coreil answered amiably. “I don’t need money to survive, but you do. That’s quite a bit of blood.”

He pointed at Letho’s chest, where a red stain was spreading over the front of his armor. Letho swore as another wave of dizziness swamped his mind. The wounds must be deeper than he’d thought. Blackness started to creep into the edges of his vision.

“Come here, big guy,” Coreil murmured, appearing beside the witcher and lifting one massive arm over his bony shoulders. He helped Letho out of the house and through the village, commenting only that the sunrise was still a few hours ahead. It took only a few minutes for them to reach their makeshift camp outside the town, but in those precious few minutes Letho lost even more blood. His head spun violently as Coreil lowered him into a slumped sitting position, murmuring softly all the while. The vampire undid his armor and pulled it carefully away from the sticky wounds, then pulled the torn undershirt over Letho’s head, baring his sweaty skin to the chill night air.

“I can stitch these for you,” Coreil said, gently probing the skin around the cuts with his fingertips. “It seems that there was something on that thing’s claws that dramatically slowed your healing abilities, and they’ll get nasty if they’re not closed properly. Just don’t punch me.”

Letho moaned, screwing up his eyes against the nauseating dizziness.

“Ailuranthrope,” he grunted. “It was an ailuranthrope.”

Coreil let out a loud snort and fished around in Letho’s saddle bag for the appropriate supplies.

“I don’t care what they’re called, I just can’t have you dying on me, not now.”

The needle bit into the skin of Letho’s chest, but he barely noticed. He was nearly drunk from blood loss, his vision blurry, his mind buzzing, and the pain from the stitching blended in with the general throbbing of his wounds.

“Swallow,” he managed, feeling the last pull of the thread close the final slash in his skin. Coreil vanished, and brought back a bottle, holding it up so he could gulp the contents. The potion took a surprisingly long time to begin working, but he eventually felt the regular tingling enter his veins. He sighed.

“Thanks,” he muttered, then sleep took him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12.**

Letho woke from a blissfully dreamless sleep and sat up, looking around. He barely remembered getting back to the camp.

“How did you sleep?” a voice asked from nearby. Coreil had appeared next to him and crouched down, looking intently at the stitched cuts.

“Slept fine,” Letho grunted. “Breakfast?”

“Cooking,” the vampire replied absently, reaching out to prod the area around the wounds. Letho winced and shooed him away.

“Still tender,” Coreil mused. “You’ll have to take it easy for another day.”

“Don’t need babying,” Letho told him, getting up and pulling on a spare shirt. When he began to look for his repair kit to fix the gashes in his armor, Coreil spoke.

“Oh, I know that. And you don’t need to get that out, I fixed your breastplate last night.”

Letho bemusedly accepted the neatly mended garment and donned it, tugging the leather straps into place.

“You didn’t need to,” he grunted, inspecting the needlework. The stitches were as fine as the ones in his chest.

“But I wanted to! And I was bored,” Coreil said. He smiled with blinding charm and dipped into a slightly mocking bow. “Anything to help save a little time.”

Letho fought back a grin. He was feeling good after a night of uninterrupted sleep, and he didn’t really mind the teasing.

“Need to talk to the man who issued the contract,” Letho mumbled, his mouth full of roasted grouse. How Coreil could rustle up game in the most barren looking landscapes he would never know. The vampire bit smugly into his own meal, chewed, and swallowed.

“I actually took care of that before you woke,” he said, his eyes twinkling wickedly. “I put the purse in your saddle bag.”

When they finally arrived in Kerack, Letho was itching to finally sink his teeth into his main contract. He was also itching to dig the leftover thread out of his chest. Most of it had been destroyed by his mutant immune system, but some bits of cotton still clung to his chest around and in the scars, and it irritated the new skin.

Talk from the locals and the city guard reached Letho’s ears as they walked. It seemed he wouldn’t need to interrogate anyone for information in this city. According to a nearby group of men, several fresh corpses had been discovered in an abandoned house in the poorer district. The bodies had been slashed open at the throat and drained of blood.

“Nice when the trail is obvious,” Letho muttered to Coreil, pushing past a group of fishermen who were milling around in the street.

“Very,” the vampire replied. Letho looked down at him. He had seemed to become more and more distracted as they drew closer to the port city. Whatever was bothering him, he hadn’t cared to elaborate, and Letho wasn’t one to pry.

“Only one reason they’d come here,” Letho continued, heading toward the docks with Coreil in tow.

Letho’s hunch was correct; one of the captains had seen the woman and her companion boarding a ship to Spikeroog several days earlier. It took nearly an hour to secure passage to Skellige, with Coreil arguing fiercely with the captains to haggle for the best price.

They boarded the ship, Letho towing his uneasy horse by the reins. Once the animal was settled below deck, the two men settled into their tiny quarters, and prepared for the voyage.

Letho stepped out onto the dock of the Kaer Trolde harbor, pleased to feel weak sunlight on his shaved scalp. He didn’t like sailing very much, and it was a relief to have solid ground under his feet.

“Now to Spikeroog,” Coreil said from beside him, dark eyes glittering, “and the end of this wild chase.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and shit finally hits the fan...

**Chapter 13.**

The scent drifted to Letho’s nostrils before they even reached the shore. He wrinkled his nose. The stink of putrid corpses was all too familiar, floating across the water toward them on the ocean breeze. He finished oiling his silver blade and pulled several vials out of his pockets, holding them at the ready.

“Prepare yourself,” Coreil said, looking unusually grim. Deep lines had appeared around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes.

The boat bumped gently against the sandy bank and Letho jumped out, sword in hand. Coreil appeared next to him, and they began to walk toward the town. The further they walked, the worse the smell got, until the stench was truly nauseating.

The small village looked like a scene from a nightmare. Corpses were strewn across the road, slumped against houses, and piled in a mound in the center of the town. The entire village seemed to be there, from the smallest children to the village elders, all ripped to pieces and left to rot in the sun. A few crows had landed to feed on the mess and cawed loudly as the two men approached.

Coreil stiffened, eyes fixed on the largest pile of bodies, and Letho saw that someone had appeared there, sitting astride the topmost corpse. The figure seemed to be made of light and crowned in flaming gold, but when Letho adjusted his eyes, he saw that the crown was a halo of shining, golden curls, and the light was glowing, ivory skin. Wide blue eyes blinked, and ruby-red lips lifted in an angelic smile.

The woman was wearing only a tattered dress that must have once been pure white, but the garment had been so thoroughly stained with dried blood that it now was the color of rusted iron. She was the picture of the woman who had appeared in Letho’s nightmares.

Her voice rang out, strangely muffled in the presence of so much dead flesh.

“I see you’ve finally caught up to me.”

Letho didn’t respond, and neither did Coreil. The vampire seemed to be frozen in place, his dark eyes staring at the woman in a vacant, shocked way. A nearly tangible force had begun to radiate from him, and Letho was inclined to take a few steps sideways to get out of range of the odd, tingling feeling.

“What, no answer?” the woman called, tilting her head back to look up at the sky. “No curses? No questions?”

“Where’s Ranhak?” Letho said simply. The woman replied with a tinkling laugh that sent violent shivers over Letho’s skin.

“Ooh, so that’s why… I was curious about your reasons for pursuing me.” She stood, stretching luxuriously and leapt lightly off the pile.

“Once he ate the proper ingredients, his blood was truly exquisite!” Her laugh sparkled like silver bells. “So, if you’re looking for him, you are going to leave empty handed. That also means that he,” she gestured to Coreil, “has been taking advantage of you.”

Familiar with all the tricks in the book, Letho didn’t take his eyes off the woman.

“His business,” he grunted, sword still gripped firmly in his hand, ready for an oncoming attack, but the woman stayed where she was, looking at them both with her head tilted slightly to one side.

“It doesn’t upset you at all?” she asked.

“Nope. I’ll get my money either way.”

This answer seemed to displease her, and she frowned, dainty lines forming between her arched eyebrows.

“You don’t care that he’s using you to exact his own personal revenge? That you would’ve never pursued a contract so far without a little… help?” she prodded, beginning to stroll closer. Her movements were a bit too fluid, nearly unstable, as if she was still blood-drunk. Letho chose not to answer her, and popped the cork from a bottle he’d pulled out of his pocket, drinking the potion without looking away from the approaching figure. He drank two more potions, dropping the bottles to the ground once they were empty. Poison began to flood through his body. He felt his veins standing out against his skin, dark purple against the white. At the same time, warmth and strength joined the flow, coursing through his limbs and into his core.

“Velinora.”

The word lashed across the space like a whip. It was Coreil who had spoken, and though his voice was soft, it echoed in the air between them like a gong.

“I’ve seen what this man is capable of, and he’s more than a match for you.” His face had gone deathly pale, but he continued to speak. “Velinora Marale Calusin Tuthace-Iiul, you are going to pay for what you did to my daughter.”

A brief flicker of fury in her face was all the warning Letho had before she was on him, and he found himself fighting for his life. She was a whirlwind of claws and fangs, her movements so quick that he could barely see them. Relying almost solely on his instincts, he did his best to block each swing as it whistled toward him.

“You think you even have a chance against me? You’ll fight his battles for him and die like a happy, loyal cur!” she shrieked, aiming her next blow at his face. He blocked, not caring to waste energy on a reply, and executed a riposte that nearly ran her through. She dodged out of the way, and the tip of the sword only caught her dress, tearing the delicate fabric. They both stared at the rip, then she launched at the witcher with a flurry of fast slashes. One struck flesh instead of metal, leaving a long line of red welling up on Letho’s arm. For a moment, the woman seemed to pause, distracted by the sudden appearance of blood, but in the next second she sprang back. The welling blood had begun to turn black, dripping down Letho’s arm in dark streaks. He watched with interest as her eyes slowly became bloodshot, then a drop of blood rolled down her cheek.

She was only distracted briefly, then she shook her head, uttered a guttural snarl, and sprang again. As she moved, her beautiful features shifted, twisting into a grotesque mask. Her nose flattened and became snout-like, her eyes widened and grew dark. Long pointed tips stretched from her ears. Reddish veins appeared under her skin, winding across her temples and over her forehead. Letho blocked another strike from her claws and saw that her teeth were now huge, irregular fangs. With the changes, her attacks increased in speed and ferocity and Letho was driven to the defensive again. He couldn’t seem to land a hit on her at all, but every time she drew his blood it appeared to cause her intense pain. One overzealous slash caught an important vein in Letho’s wrist, and a splatter of black blood hit the woman’s face. She screamed, the piercing sound knocking Letho back several steps, and stumbled back herself, wiping the drops from her cheeks. The liquid left raised, purple welts on her reddened complexion.

Letho took advantage of her pain to chug the contents of another bottle. He felt the liquid hit his stomach and nearly retched, but the healing began to work immediately. The bleeding from his cuts slowed to a sluggish drip.

Preparing for another attack, Letho saw that the woman had frozen in place, her monstrous eyes starting from her head. The witcher didn’t stop to question what was going on. He simply lunged forward and slashed viciously across her body. Blood sprayed across the ground, and the woman seemed to regain consciousness, springing into immediate retaliation. Talons raked across Letho’s stomach as he jumped back. Cursing furiously, he whipped his sword around, feeling it connect with solid flesh, then lunged out of the way of further harm. Something thumped sickeningly to the ground.

When the witcher looked, he saw the woman holding out her arm, staring at the bleeding stump that had replaced her hand and forearm. Scarlet cascaded over the front of her dress as Letho watched.

“That will regenerate too quickly to make any difference,” said Coreil, appearing beside Letho, his face tense. “You’ll have to cause more serious damage to put her down for any length of time.”

Coreil disappeared again and Letho drank the contents of two more bottles. He was edging toward a dangerous level of toxins in his body, but he didn’t see any other option. The witcher potions would help keep him alive.

A squelching noise drew his attention back to the woman. Slimy, pink flesh was erupting from the blunt stump, blood spurting out as it wriggled and grew. Letho grimaced, hefted his sword, and moved to attack again. The regrowth of the limb had distracted the woman, and Letho took advantage of the moment of stillness. He jumped forward and swung, his blade slicing through her other arm at the wrist. Another torrent of blood splattered to the ground.

Something snapped. Letho had just enough time to stagger backwards before the woman’s body erupted with a pair of slick, pink wings. Her ivory skin peeled back, showing blonde, patchy fur underneath. Both arms flexed, clawed hands reappearing from the bloody stumps in the blink of an eye. Letho watched in disgust as her lips parted, then peeled away, her face elongating into a pale, bat-like countenance. Translucent, membranous ears grew from each side of her head. Huge, white, jagged teeth sprouted from the pink gums as the creature opened her mouth and let out a piercing shriek, the sheer force of the sound driving Letho backwards.

“You’re a coward, Coreil!” the monster howled, saliva dripping from its gaping mouth. “You’ve always been a coward! Save your little friend! Come out and fight, you bastard!”

Letho thought that he’d been fighting for his life before, but now he knew that had only been the beginning. The creature had a deadly arsenal of screams, claws, and teeth, which it used with great skill to slowly chip away at Letho’s stamina and morale. Soon he was covered in cuts of all sizes, his black blood streaming down his body in too many places to count. Whatever the poison in the black blood potion was that usually deterred vampires, it barely had any effect on the bestial form of a real higher vampire. It knocked the witcher back again and again, effortlessly slicing and tearing at him until he was a bloody, sweating mess.

Finally, Letho had had enough. He dodged yet another strike and managed to drink from two more bottles. His veins stood out against his skin. A crimson flush crept over the back of his hands and up his arms, and suddenly he felt hot. His strength began to return as he continued to block strikes from teeth and claws. A burst of vitality flooded into his body, and he gasped against the pain that flared with it, suddenly out of breath. The monster screamed in triumph and knocked him onto his back, landing on top of him and bending forward, its drooling, fanged mouth blowing rank breath into Letho’s face. Ignoring the saliva dripping onto his cheeks, Letho surged beneath the beast, utilizing the borrowed strength to drive his blade through its ribs. Using the temporary, monstrous power, Letho yanked his sword and opened the monster up from the ribs and through the collarbone, out into the open air. He shoved the beast off himself and stood on shaking legs, then stepped back as the monster started to writhe. It wriggled, and the witcher saw tendrils of new flesh creeping from the edge of the wound he’d made.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Letho panted, feeling Coreil appear by his side. The man nodded grimly, something unfathomable in his dark gaze.

“With pleasure.”

Coreil moved forward, watching the pieces of the monster wriggle with what looked like intense satisfaction playing across his face. He stood, watching the struggle until both pieces had rejoined, and were beginning to stir, then he bent down. In one swift motion, he ripped a hole in the creature’s neck, bending and tearing more and more flesh away until barely any remained. The blood drained from the monster’s corpse and it slowly shrank back to human form as the two men stood and watched.

“Well,” Letho grunted, eyeing Coreil’s bloody face. “Should look for Ranhak.”

“Top of the pile, freshest body,” Coreil said, still staring down at the mess at his feet. Casting one last look at the matted, bloody curls, Letho turned and walked over to the mound of corpses. He gingerly pulled the topmost corpse down from the pile and examined it. Thanks to Ranhak’s mother, Letho was easily able to identify the body.

“Whole lotta effort just for a dead man,” he grunted. A knife appeared in his hand and he cut off the swollen finger that sported a thick, copper ring. A short tug-of-war later and Letho stood, dropping the finger and pocketing the ring.

“Shall we go, then?”

Coreil had come over, and was looking up at him. His face was clean again, and the old cheerfulness was beginning to show in the depths of his eyes once more. Letho nodded.

“Too many bodies to burn,” he muttered, “and I’m too weak to even try.”

The two men surveyed the desolate town, each briefly consumed by their own thoughts, then turned and walked away.  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally...

**Chapter 14.**

Nearly three weeks later, the pair stopped in Oxenfurt to refuel and rest for a day, then they continued back along the road toward Denesle. Letho wasn’t sure when Coreil was planning to leave, since he had said nothing about the subject. In fact, the man had said very little since they’d returned from Skellige. Despite his usual disinterest, Letho was a bit curious about what exactly had happened back on Spikeroog, but he didn’t ask.

“Here about the contract,” Letho said, banging his fist on the tiny, rickety door.

“Thank th’ gods, th’ last one ne’er came back!” an ancient voice crackled, and the door was pushed open. The old woman peered up into Letho’s face.

“Ye took yer right time,” she said at length. “It’s been ages. Thought ye were dead!”

“Nearly was,” Letho replied. “And I’m sorry, but your son was dead when we found him.”

He fished in his pocket and produced the copper ring he’d taken from Ranhak’s corpse, dropping it into her wrinkled, outstretched palm. It took several moments for her to respond, but eventually she swallowed and said,

“Always knew that boy would end up like this.” She looked down at the ring. “Thank ye kindly fer bringin’ th’ news. A moment, if ye please.”

Letho watched her totter back into her house, then return with a cloth wrapped object.

“Don’t have the gold I promised ye, since ye took so long and I needed it fer rations,” she said, “but I had this from me girlhood, an’ don’t got no use fer it now. Should fetch a pretty penny.”

Letho took the object and pulled back the cloth, peering inside at the object. It was a truly beautiful, ornate, golden candlestick, covered in precious and semi-precious gems. He promptly covered it up with the cloth and looked down into the old woman’s twinkling eyes.

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s plenty.”

Flames licked against the night sky, sparks flying up into the darkness. Letho reclined against his saddlebags, pleasantly full and relaxed, watching the fire flicker in the slight breeze. Sitting across from him, Coreil reclined in a similar position, head tilted up to the sky.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation,” Coreil said softly.

“Don’t need to if you don’t want to,” Letho replied.

“I would like to, if you’ll allow me.”

At Letho’s nod, Coreil straightened slightly in his seated position, and the firelight danced in his eyes.

“Several hundred years ago,” he began, and suddenly the witcher felt a pressure against his mind. Trusting Coreil, he surrendered without a second thought, and veils of light descended upon his vision, slowly beginning to show a dappled forest clearing. Two girls romped in the leaves.

Letho saw through the eyes of Coreil’s memories, watching as the girls grew into young women. He felt what Coreil felt, a mixture of intense joy, love, and peace as he spent time with his child. Those emotions were subtly intertwined with a tendril of mistrust, not toward his daughter, but toward the other child, the one with a blonde halo of curls.

_‘They call us monsters,’_ Coreil’s voice spoke softly in Letho’s mind, _‘and monsters cannot love, but I loved my daughter with everything I had, monster or no.’_

The women were the best of friends, but as the years passed, their relationship became strained and taught. They began to fight. Their differences drove them further and further apart. A sinking feeling pulled in Letho’s stomach as he continued to watch, then a sudden pain gripped his heart. Through Coreil’s vision, he saw the two young women clash against each other, a whirlwind of golden curls and dark, iridescent black hair.

_‘I still do not know why they fought,’_ Coreil’s voice whispered.

The metallic tang of blood assaulted Letho’s nostrils. He inhaled, shocked, and looked down into the blank, staring eyes of his, no, Coreil’s daughter. Her body was cold and limp in his arms as he knelt in the dirt, the only warmth he could feel streaming down his cheeks.

Letho jerked back into reality, the veils lifting from his eyes. He took a deep breath, wiped his watering eyes, and looked across the fire.

“She wrote me a letter before she left for that fight, begging me not to hunt down her one-time friend. I had to keep that promise, so I waited for many years until the circumstances aligned, and then you appeared.” Coreil met Letho’s gaze and smiled sadly. “I apologize for using you in such a manner.”

“Don’t worry,” Letho replied, shrugging comfortably. “Would’ve done the contract one way or another… and the help was kinda nice.”

“It was my pleasure.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a little while, then Coreil spoke again.

“I’m going to leave tomorrow. I enjoyed travelling with you, thank you for allowing me to come along.”

“You’re welcome.”

Coreil chuckled softly.

“If you ever feel like finding me…” he said, and Letho felt the pressure in his mind again. He accepted, and saw a path leading into a lush forest. The path disappeared beneath him, and he was suddenly in the dappled forest clearing again, looking down at a rock that had been placed on the ground. A name had been carved in the stone in curving, elegant letters. _Suri Corvum Tiur Arthe-Veln._

The veils lifted again, and Letho blinked, finding that he knew exactly how to find that sun-dappled forest clearing.

“I’ll be there for as long as it takes to apologize to my daughter, then I will return to wandering. If you want to find me, you will, one way or another.”

Letho nodded once, and they returned to easy silence, each lost in their own contemplation of the starry sky.

When Letho surfaced from his meditative state the next morning, Coreil was gone. The morning was nearly too quiet without the man’s pleasant remarks, though his spicy, floral scent lingered. Going about his business and dispersing his extra firewood, Letho found himself uneasily noticing the unbroken silence. He shook himself and grinned. ‘Going soft, I guess,’ he thought, pulling himself onto his horse and surveying the road before him. The breeze blew gently into his face, carrying the subtle scents of the wilderness. For the first time in weeks, he could go wherever he wanted. _‘No more cities,’_ he thought, turning his horse to the north. _‘Think I’d rather stick to the countryside for a while.’ _

The clopping of the horse’s hooves on the road was the first thing that broke the silence of the morning. It was a simple thing, but to Letho, it was the sweetest sound in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed Letho's adventure :D one last huge thanks to my amazing beta reader @letholetgod <3


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